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NaD  had  a  trying  time;  she  would  get  grandma  posed  just  as  she  wanted  her, 
when  she  would  jump  up  and  insist  on  going  downstairs.— Page  173. 

Annice  Wynkoop. 


ANNICE    WYNKOOP 
ARTIST 

THE  PERSEVERANCE  OF  A  COUNTRY  GIRL 


By  ADELAIDE  L.  ROUSE 


'  Perseverance  and  tact  are  the 
two  great  qualities  most  valuable 
for  all  who  would  succeed 
in  life." 


A.  L.  BURT,  PUBLISHER, 
52-58  DuANB  Street,  New  York. 


Copyright,  i8g& 
By  a.  I.  BRADLEY  &  CO 


ANNICE  WYNKOOP,  ARTIST. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  youngest  Wynkoop  girl  stood  at  the  back 
gate,  the  wind  blowing  her  yellow  hair  about  her 
ears.  It  was  a  spring  wind,  full  of  restlessness 
and  longing,  and  Nan  Wynkoop — her  real  name 
was  Annice, — felt  it.  She  had  raked  up  the  dead 
leaves  and  made  a  bonfire,  but  the  fire  had  been 
out  for  several  minutes,  while  she  stood  at  the 
gate,  thinking  as  seriously  as  she  had  ever  done 
in  all  her  nineteen  years.  And  Nan  was  a  serious- 
minded  young  woman,  despite  her  crinkly  yellow 
hair,  and  general  air  of  "  highty-tighty,"  as 
Grandma  Wynkoop  called  it. 

Perhaps  if  it  had  been  a  fall  wind  Nan  would 
have  had  different  thoughts.  The  spring  winds 
and  the  spring  odors  arouse  all  the  gipsy  in  us. 
We  don't  want  to  stay  where  we  are  "  put,"  but 
we  want  to  try  new  adventures,  and  go,  go,  al- 
most anywhere.  Old  Chaucer  expressed  all  this 
with : — 

"  Thanne  longen  folk  to  goon  on  pilgrimages."    • 

5.     ■    ■ 


2137989 


6  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

Nan  felt  adventurous.  She  sniffed  at  the 
woodsy  odors  that  came  from  the  grove  across 
the  road,  and  fell  to  thinking  again  so  hard  that 
she  wrinkled  her  forehead  as  badly  as  Grandma 
Wynkoop  herself. 

"  I'll  do  it,  I  must  do  it !  "  and  she  stamped  the 
slim  foot  in  the  shabby  russet  shoe.  "  There  !  It 
is  settled,  and  it  has  got  to  stay  settled."  Then 
she  went  back  to  the  bonfire. 

"  Out,  I  declare,"  and  Nan  poked  one  of  the 
embers  with  her  foot.  "  I  shall  have  to  light  it 
again."  After  the  fire  was  burning  a  new  idea 
seemed  to  strike  her.  She  ran  into  the  house 
and  went  into  a  small  bedroom  off  the  kitchen. 

After  a  brief  dialogue  a  man's  voice  said,  "  Well, 
I  suppose  you  may  if  you  think  best.  I  don't 
know  as  they  will  ever  do  anybody  any  good." 

*'  Of  course  they  won't,  and  it  will  do  me  a 
great  deal  of  good  to  burn  them." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  Nan  ?  "  called 
Emma  Anna  from  the  sitting-room,  where  she 
was  bending  over  Mrs.  Harper's  new  basque. 

But  Nan  was  already  flying  up  the  attic  stairs. 
Presently  a  long  roll  which  looked  like  a  map  or  a 
chart  flew  out  of  the  window.  Another  followed, 
and  then  another,  till  twenty-six  lay  in  the 
yard. 

In  a  second  Nan  was  there  herself,  and  had 
popped  onft  of  the  charts  into  her  bonfire. 

Mrs.  Wynkoop  came  to  the  kitchen  door  with 


Annice   Wynkoop^  Artist.  7 

a  rolling-pin  in  her  hand.  "  Why,  Nan,  child, 
what  are  you  up  to  ?  " 

"  Burning  Smith's  Illustrated  Chart  of  the 
World's  History,  that  is  all,"  and  a  second  chart 
went  into  the  fire. 

"  But  wait ;  it  isn't  right.  You  oughtn't  to  do 
it." 

"  Why  not  ?  They  are  good  for  nothing,  and 
Pa  said  I  could  burn  them.  Now,  Ma,  don't  say 
anything,  or  he'll  change  his  mind.  And  don't 
let  Charlotte  hear  of  it,  or  she  will  try  to  stop 
me.     She  is  so  stingy." 

"  It  doesn't  seem  right  to  destroy  property  in 
this  way." 

"  Why  not  ?  Pa  paid  for  them,  and  I  have 
often  heard  you  sigh  over  what  they  cost.  I 
should  think  you  would  be  glad  to  have  them 
out  of  your  sight." 

"  It  may  be  a  good  thing  to  keep  them  in  the 
house  to  sort  of  hold  over  your  Pa's  head  in  case 
he  should  take  a  notion  to  canvass  again." 

"  There  is  something  in  that,  but  I  think  he  has 
had  enough  of  canvassing,"  added  Nan,  hopeful- 
ly. "  The  charts  will  make  a  beautiful  bonfire,  that 
will  be  the  only  thing  they  ever  were  good  for." 

"  Well,  I'll  take  out  five  or  six,  and  you  may 
burn  the  rest,  but  it  doesn't  seem  right." 

Mrs.  Wynkoop  went  back  to  her  pie-crust, 
not  very  well  satisfied,  and  Nan  worked  hard. 
In   a  few   minutes   all   the  charts   were  on  the 


8  Annice   Wynkoop^  Artist. 

funeral  pyre.  Then  she  danced  around  it,  sing- 
ing and  waving  her  arms.  She  looked  like  a 
priestess  of  some  mysterious  order,  in  her  red 
cape,  and  red  Tamo'  Shanter,  with  the  yellow  hair 
flying  about  her  shoulders. 

Charlotte  came  through  the  back  gate,  and 
stopped  in  amazement.  "  Nan,  you  grow  wilder 
every  day  you  live." 

"  Haven't  I  a  right  to  be  wild  in  my  own  back 
yard  ?  I  behave  myself  usually,  ma'am.  This  is 
a  special  occasion,  and  it  calls  for  special  demon- 
stration." 

"What  are  you  burning?  It  smells  like  var- 
nish or  paint." 

"  I  should  think  it  might.  I've  burned  all  of 
Pa's  old  charts."  And  Nan  began  her  dance  and 
incantations  again. 

"  It  is  a  shame,"  said  Charlotte.  "  I  wonder 
that  Pa  let  you  burn  them." 

"  I  think  he  was  glad  enough  to  get  rid  of  them." 

"But  what  put  the  idea  in  your  head  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  air.  It's  so — something  that  makes 
one  want  to  do  new  things.  I've  had  a  beautiful 
time  out  here  this  morning,  all  by  myself,  and  I 
have  settled  my  affairs.  There  is  nothing  like 
fresh  air  to  make  one  see  things  clearly." 

"  I  hope  you  have  made  up  your  mind  to  take  the 
Pine  Ridge  school."     Charlotte  spoke  anxiously. 

"  No  ;  I  shall  never  teach.  There  is  no  use  in 
talking  about  it,  Charlotte,  I  hate  teaching  so  that 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  9 

I  have  no  business  with  it.  Can't  you  see  that  ? 
I  have  too  much  conscience  to  do  anything  as 
poorly  as  I  should  do  teaching.  But  as  I  said,  I 
have  made  up  my  mind — " 

"To  what?"  asked  Charlotte  sharply. 

"  To  go  to  New  York  in  the  fall  and  study  art." 

Poor  Charlotte,  if  a  bomb  had  struck  her  she 
could  not  have  clutched  the  peach-tree  more  close- 
ly. Nan  was  very  quiet  after  she  had  fired  her 
heaviest  gun,  and  nothing  was  heard  but  the  saucy 
caw  of  a  crow  wheeling  overhead. 

Presently  Emma  Anna  came  to  the  kitchen 
window  and  tapped  with  her  thimble. 

"  Dinner  is  ready,"  said  Charlotte,  finding  her 
breath  at  last,  and  she  started  for  the  house. 
Nan  slowly  followed  her,  feeling  more  than  half 
frightened  at  the  boldness  of  her  plan,  and  wonder- 
ing if  she  would  have  the  courage  to  carry  it  out. 

She  took  her  place  at  the  table  and  ate  her 
share  of  fried  ham  and  boiled  potato  and  squash 
in  silence.  When  the  plates  of  dried-apple  pie 
began  to  circulate,  she  opened  her  mouth,  and  by 
a  great  effort,  delivered  herself  of  the  news  which 
had  frightened  Charlotte  a  few  moments  before. 

If  Nan  had  enjoyed  creating  a  sensation  she 
would  have  had  her  fill  that  day.  The  rest  of  the 
family  were  as  speechless  as  Charlotte,  except 
Mr.  Wynkoop,  who  had  not  understood,  and  who 
called  from  the  bedroom. 

**  Who  is  going  to  New  York  ?  " 


lO  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

A  groan  was  his  only  reply,  when  Nan  explained. 
The  silence  grew  oppressive,  and,  as  if  to  end  it, 
they  all  rose,  the  pie  being  finished,  and  left  the 
table.  Emma  Anna  went  back  to  Mrs.  Harper's 
basque,  Charlotte  began  to  gather  the  dishes  to- 
gether, and  Mrs.  Wynkoop  sat  down  in  the  Boston 
rocker  and  did  nothing,  a  most  unusual  procedure 
for  her.  The  other  member  of  the  family,  Harriet, 
had  not  yet  come,  and  Charlotte  put  some  dinner 
in  the  oven  for  her. 

Nan  took  up  the  dish  towel,  intending  to  dry 
the  dishes,  but  Charlotte  gently  took  it  away  from 
her.  Then  Nan  went  into  the  sitting-room,  where 
her  mother  still  sat  in  the  rocking  chair.  Emma 
Anna  was  putting  the  whalebones  in  the  basque 
now. 

The  room  w^s  very  hot  from  the  airtight  stove, 
and  Nan's  head  began  to  ache.  She  had  half  a 
mind  to  go  for  a  long  tramp  over  the  hill,  yet  she 
wanted  to  stay  and  have  some  one  talk  to  her 
about  her  plan.  She  knew  they  would  think  her 
crazy  ;  she  expected  open  opposition,  and  a  great 
deal  of  it  ;  but  she  was  not  prepared  for  this 
silence. 

"  Have  you  any  overcasting  for  me  to  do,  Emma 
Anna?"  she  asked  humbly, 

Emma  Anna  bent  to  bite  her  thread  and  then 
shook  her  head. 

Nan  felt  herself  growing  nervous.  Would  no 
one  scold  her?     Perhaps  her  father  would.     She 


Anuice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  II 

went  into  the  bedroom.  "  I  am  going  for  a  walk, 
and  I  may  stop  at  Uncle  David's.  Do  you  want 
to  send  any  message  to  him  ?  " 

*'  No."  And  Mr.  Wynkoop  turned  again  to 
the  county  paper. 

Nan  put  on  her  hat  and  strolled  out  to  the  barn. 
Two  or  three  cats  came  up  to  her  and  rubbed 
themselves  against  her  skirts.  She  stooped  to 
stroke  them,  and  she  picked  up  the  Maltese  one 
and  carried  it  with  her.  The  old  gray  horse  poked 
his  nose  out  of  his  stall  and  neighed  in  friendly 
greeting.  Nan  patted  him  and  fed  him  wisps  of 
hay.  "  You  are  the  only  one  who  will  talk  to  me, 
Billy.  Every  one  else  thinks  I  am  a  wretch,  an 
ungrateful  wretch.  I  am  ostracized,  if  you  know 
what  that  means,  Billy." 

Billy  neighed  again,  and  seemed  to  look  as  if  he 
appreciated  the  situation. 

"  They  would  blame  you  too,  Billy,  if  they 
knew  that  you  took  me  to  town  where  I  got  Miss 
Frost's  letter.     You  deserve  to  be  ostracized  too." 

Nan  climbed  into  the  haymow  and  gathered 
the  eggs,  and  then  went  to  look  at  the  little 
chickens.  She  took  one  of  the  fluffy  things  in  her 
lap  and  sat  down  in  the  barn  door.  The  Maltese 
kitten,  finding  herself  supplanted,  went  back  to 
the  mother  cat. 

"  I  wonder  if  they  are  right  and  I  am  wrong. 
Am  I  a  selfish  thing?  I  don't  believe  it.  I  don't 
expect  any    fun.     I  know  I    shall  work   harder 


12  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

than  if  I  taught  school,  but  it  will  be  my  work, 
and  that  makes  all  the  difference  in  the  world.  If 
I  should  teach  a  few  years  and  then  study  art  I 
would — No,  I  never  would  study  at  all  if  I  waited. 
I  would  lose  my  interest  as  I  would  lose  my 
youth.  I  would  become  like  Charlotte  and  Emma 
Anna;  they  are  afraid  of  things.  Anything  new 
frightens  them.  They  lie  awake  half  the  night  if 
they  are  going  to  a  town  ten  miles  away  to  shop. 
I  won't  belike  them.  I'll  dare  things,  and  I'll  go 
to  New  York  to  study  art.  1  have  made  up  my 
mind  again.  Now  I  am  going  for  a  long  walk. 
Nothing  straightens  me  out  like  a  good  tramp." 

Nan  got  up  with  such  a  rush  that  she  fright- 
ened a  sedate  Brahma  hen  that  had  been  pulling 
a  fishworm  out  of  the  ground.  She  ran  away, 
leaving  the  worm,  and  cackling  a  remonstrance. 
The  worm  was  drawing  itself  back  into  its  hole, 
but  Nan  walked  away,  and  left  the  hen  to  finish 
its  marketing. 

A  moment  more,  and  she  was  well  on  her  way 
down  the  road,  her  red  cloak  making  a  bright  spot 
on  the  landscape.  She  climbed  hills,  never  slack- 
ing her  pace,  and  if  a  fence  was  in  her  way  she 
climbed  it  without  thinking  that  it  was  any  effort, 
The  dogs  came  out  from  the  farmyards  as  she 
passed,  and  she  called  them  all  by  name  and 
stopped  to  pat  their  heads.  She  came  back  after 
an  hour  or  two  with  her  hands  full  of  wild  flowers, 
and  a  splendid  glow  on  her  cheeks. 


Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist.  13 

After  the  flowers  were  arranged  in  vases  and 
bowls,  Nan  ran  up  to  her  -foom.  Formerly  she 
had  occupied  a  large  roony  with  Harriet,  adjoin- 
ing the  one  which  belonged  to  Emma  Anna  and 
Charlotte,  but  this  spring  she  had  moved  into  a 
smaller  room  where  she  could  "  spread  eagle"  her- 
self, as  she  explained  to  Harriet. 

It  was  a  bare  little  room,  for  furniture  was 
scarce  in  the  Wynkoop  household.  So  Nan  had 
set  up  housekeeping  with  the  odds  and  ends  she 
could  pick  up.  Still,  the  room  had  an  "  air,"  as 
Nan  told  herself.  The  toilet  table  had  been  a 
soap  box,  or  rather,  two  soap  boxes,  and  Nan  had 
draped  them  with  some  old  dotted  muslin,  well 
darned  and  laundered.  The  little  mirror  was  a 
cheap  affair,  which  made  Nan  look  as  if  she  had 
incipient  mumps  in  the  left  cheek,  but  she  had 
draped  more  of  the  old  muslin  around  it,  and  it 
made  a  very  pretty  dressing-table.  The  one 
window  had  a  muslin  curtain  tied  back  with  a 
green  ribbon.  There  w^as  a  wide  couch  which 
served  for  a  bed  by  night,  and  a  divan  by  day. 
It  was  covered,  while  doing  duty  as  a  divan,  with 
pale  green  calico,  and  it  was  heaped  with  pillows 
covered  with  calico  or  some  other  cotton  goods, 
in  all  the  tints  of  green.  The  pillows  were 
stuffed  with  straw,  for  Nan  could  not  indulge  in 
down,  but,  as  she  said,  the  effect  was  the  same,  and 
she  was  very  well  satisfied  with  her  "  pillowy" 
place.     The  few  books  which  the  girl  could  call 


14  Annie e   Wynkoop^  Artist. 

her  own  were  ranged  on  a  home-made  bookshelf, 
for  Nan  could  do  a  bit  of  carpentry  work  upon 
occasion.  She  did  not  stop  now  to  look  at  her 
room,  though  she  was  very  proud  of  it.  She 
opened  a  closet  door  and  took  out  an  armful  of 
sketches,  which  she  pinned  on  the  wall.  Then  she 
sat  down  on  the  divan  to  study  the  pictures.  Her 
face  flushed  and  her  eyes  grew  brighter. 

"  I  can  paint,  I  know  it.  Nan  Wyncoop,  my 
dear,  there  is  no  doubt  that  you  are  meant  for  an 
artist.  I  can't  help  being  a  little  proud  of  you, 
my  girl."  And  Nan  kissed  her  hand  to  her  own 
reflection  in  the  mirror.  "  I  shall  make  some- 
thing of  myself  ;  I  am  going  to  New  York  to  study 
art.  I  am  going  this  fall.  I'll  have  nothing  to 
wear,  and  I'll  live  on  one  meal  a  day,  if  need  be, 
but  I'll  study,  study.  I  would  rather  be  as  poor 
as  a  church  mouse  and  be  able  to  see  things  and 
feel  like  this  than  to  be  rich  and  not  care  for 
them.  I  am  glad  I  am  Nan  Wynkoop,  with  red 
hair  and  old  clothes." 

A  quick  step  outside  was  followed  by  a  brisk 
rap.  "  Let  me  in,  I  want  to  see  the  new 
room." 

•'  Oh,  it  is  you,  Harriet?  Come  in,  of  course, 
but  you  won't  like  my  room.  You'll  say  it  is 
flighty  like  its  inmate,"  said  Nan,  as  if  pitying 
Harriet's  lack  of  appreciation. 

Harriet  was  a  large  woman  of  twenty-eight. 
She  was  next  in  age  to  Nan,  though  there  was  a 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  15 

gap  of  many  years  between  their  ages.  She  had 
an  alert  air,  very  different  from  the  manner  of  the 
two  older  sisters.  In  this  respect  Nan  resembled 
her.  Harriet  was  the  librarian  of  a  town  a  few 
miles  away,  and  she  came  home  only  once  a  week, 
spending  Sunday  with  her  family. 

Nan's  little  room  seemed  to  grow  smaller  when 
Harriet  came  in.  She  dropped  down  on  the  green 
couch  and  proceeded  to  take  in  the  room. 

"  What  are  you  having,  an  exhibition  ?  " 

"Yes,  this  is  a  private  view.  I  wouldn't  let 
any  one  else  in.  All  the  others  would  laugh,  and 
I  am  not  sure  that  you  don't.  I  don't  mind 
your  laughing,  though." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Oh,  because  you  understand  me  better  than 
the  others  do.     We  are  alike." 

Harriet  laughed.  "  Am  I  to  consider  that  a 
compliment  ?  " 

"  We  are  more  adventurous  than  the  rest.  We 
like  to  do  things.  Some  day  you  will  fly  away 
from  that  library  and  do  something  unexpected. 
Charlotte  and  Emma  Anna  will  never  do  anything 
that  they  haven't  always  done.  Harrie,  were  they 
all  talking  about  me  downstairs?  They  acted  as 
if  there  had  been  a  death  in  the  house." 

"  I  suppose  mother  would  feel  that  half  the 
house  was  gone  if  she  let  her  baby  go  to  New 
York." 

"Oh,  then  they   have   told  you,"   and   Nan 


1 6  Annlce  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

breathed  a  sigh  of  relief.  "  Now,  Harriet,  don't 
try  to  pull  a  long  face  and  try  to  freeze  me  out  as 
the  others  do.  I'm  simply  perishing  to  talk  to 
some  one.  It  isn't  a  crazy  plan  at  all,  but  I  wasn't 
allowed  to  explain  myself.  I  wanted  to  be  ques- 
tioned, not  snubbed.  You'll  listen,  won't  you, 
Harriet?  " 

"  Yes ; "  and  Harriet  settled  herself  comfortably. 
"  Now,  go  on  and  tell  me  how  you  expect  to  live 
in  New  York  on  nothing.  We  find  it  hard  enough 
to  do  it  here." 

*'  There  is  Aunt  Annice's  money,  and  I'll  never 
want  it  more  than  I  do  now." 

"  But  you  can't  get  your  money  till  you  are  of 
age. 

"  Deacon  Halleck  will  let  me  have  it." 

Harriet  laughed.  "  Deacon  Halleck  and  you 
are  great  cronies." 

"  The  deacon  appreciates  me.  I'm  going  to 
paint  his  portrait  as  soon  as  he  is  through  planting 
and  can  take  time  to  sit.  I  made  a  sketch  of  Mrs. 
Halleck  for  him,  and  he  was  delighted.  It  was 
good.  I  sketched  her  as  she  was  paring  potatoes 
for  dinner,  and  the  deacon  said  the  polka-dots 
in  her  dress  were  as  natural  as  life."  Nan's  eyes 
twinkled.  "  So  I  know  he'll  let  me  have  the  money 
to  go  and  learn  how  to  paint  polka-dots." 

"  But  Aunt  Annice's  money,  all  told,  amounts 
only  to  three  hundred  dollars." 
.    '! Yes;  but  it  will  last  a  year,  and. by  that  time 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  IJ 

I  will  know  beyond  a  doubt  whether  I  can  paint 
or  not." 

"And  if  you  can't?" 

"  I  know  I  can." 

"  I  think  you  have  talent,  Nannie,  but  if  you 
find  out  that  you  haven't  and  your  little  money 
is  all  gone,  what  then  ?  I  am  supposing  a 
case." 

"  Then  I'll  come  home  and  sew  with  Emma 
Anna,  but  I  must  know." 

"  I  think  you  are  right.  If  you  feel  about 
your  art  as  you  seem  to,  you  can  stand  a  few 
hardships  while  you  are  getting  ready  for  your 
work." 

"  Feel  about  it,"  repeated  Nan,  getting  on  her 
feet,  and  spreading  her  hands  out  toward  her  pic- 
tures, "  I  couldn't  express  my  feeling  till  I  found 
this  in  Browning  the  other  day  : 

"  '  Could  you  write  books, 
Paint  pictures  !     One  sits  down  in  poverty 
And  writes  and  paints  with  pity  for  the  rich.'  '* 

Harriet  nodded.  "  I  know,  or  rather,  I  can 
imagine  something  of  it.  You  have  the  artistic 
temperament,  I  believe." 

"  I  have,  and  I  can  stand  anything  for  the  sake 
of  art.  I  am  so  glad  that  you  are  going  to  stand 
by  me,  Harrie." 

"  I  can't  help  wanting  to  stand  by  you,  but 
.perhaps ._  L .  am  doing  wrong.     .  You .  are  a  ver^ 

3 


1 8  Atmice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

young  girl  to  be  alone  in  a  great  city,  and  you 
are  much  too  good-looking,"  added  Harrie, 
grimly. 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am.  I  am  not  a  silly  girl  if  I 
am  young,  and  I  will  be  very  sensible.  I  will  be 
good,  Harrie,  I  truly  will.  I  have  thought  a  great 
deal  this  winter  and  spring,  and  I  see  I  can't  give 
this  idea  up.  When  I  think  about  living, — no,  I'll 
call  it  staying, — on  here  year  after  year,  as  Emma 
Anna  and  Charlotte  do,  I  choke."  And  Nan 
tugged  at  her  collar  to  loosen  it.  "  It  is  such  a 
gray  life,  and  I  won't  settle  down  to  it  without  a 
struggle.  This  morning  I  went  to  the  post-ofifice, 
and  there  was  a  letter  from  Miss  Frost.  She 
writes  that  there  will  be  no  summer  class  this 
summer,  for  she  is  going  abroad  with  her  brother. 
I  felt  desolate  when  I  got  as  far  as  that,  for  I 
have  been  living  along  till  summer  should  come. 
Then  this  is  the  part  that  made  me  so  crazy  to- 
day," and  Nan  took  the  letter  from  her  pocket. 

"  '  You  positively  must  come  to  New  York  this 
winter.  You  are  losing  time,  and  every  year  is 
precious.  If  you  can  put  your  hands  on  a  few 
hundred  dollars,  come  by  all  means.  You  can 
get  board  as  low  as  four  dollars  a  week  if  you  are 
willing  to  shut  your  eyes  to  some  disagreeable 
things.'  " 

Nan  put  the  letter  in  her  pocket.  "  I  can  put 
my  hands  on  three  hundred  dollars,  and  I  am 
going  in  the  fall.    To-night  I  am  going  to  apply 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  19 

for  entrance  to  the  art  school.     Miss  Frost  ad- 
vises me  to  do  so  at  once." 

So  saying,  Nan  began  to  put  away  her  sketches, 
and  Harriet  went  to  her  room  to  write  out  her 
weekly  report. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Although  Nan's  family  had  tormented  her 
by  their  silence  at  first,  they  soon  found  their 
voices,  and  expressed  themselves  very  freely  on 
the  subject  nearest  to  her  heart.  There  was  no 
specific  thing  that  they  dreaded,  but,  as  Nan  said, 
they  were  so  in  a  rut  that  anything  new  frightened 
them.  No  one  forbade  her  going  to  New  York, 
so  she  wrote  her  application  and  sent  it  to  the 
art  school,  but  her  mother  went  about  her  work 
singing  China,  which  was  a  sign  of  the  deepest 
depression  of  spirits.  Mrs.  Wynkoop  always  sang 
at  her  work,  but  the  tunes  she  selected  were  usu- 
ally of  a  cheerful  nature.  She  seldom  sang  any- 
thing so  lugubrious  as  China  unless  the  interest  on 
the  mortgage  failed  to  be  forthcoming,  or  they  lost 
a  head  of  cattle.  Nan  listened  to  China  for  a 
day  or  two  and  wondered  if  she  were  selfish. 
Her  little  legacy  would  do  so  much  for  the  family. 
Yes  ;  she  t;old  herself,  that  was  one  side,  but  there 
was  another  side.  "  Perhaps  I  can  take  good 
care  of  mother  yet  with  my  brush,  but  I  know 
that  if  I  stay  here,  year  after  year,  I  will  never  do 
anything  but  keep  soul  and  body  together." 

Mr.  Wynkoop  did  not  express  his  feelings  in 

20 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  21. 

music,  but  he  read  Pope's  "  Essay  on  Man,"  and 
that  indicated  that  he  was  in  the  depths.  Usu- 
ally he  read  nothing  but  the  county  paper. 
When  he  read  Pope,  which  was  one  of  the  books 
which  he  had  possessed  as  a  young  man,  it  was  a 
sign  that  he  felt  the  solemnity  of  life. 

After  a  week  or  two  the  household  relapsed 
into  its  usual  ways.  Mrs.  Wynkoop  sang  Dundee, 
instead  of  China,  and  Mr.  Wynkoop  rattled  his 
newspaper  as  usual.  Nan  guessed  that  they  were 
comforting  themselves  with  the  thought  that  she 
would  forget  her  whim,  and  be  content  to  jog  on 
with  the  rest  of  the  family.  "  They  will  see  that 
it  is  more  than  a  whim,"  she  would  say  to  her- 
self, as  she  dusted  and  washed  dishes,  made  beds, 
and  helped  Emma  Anna  with  her  sewing.  She 
seldom  mentioned  her  plan,  but,  sleeping  or  wak- 
ing, it  was  never  out  of  her  thoughts. 

In  the  village  parlance,  the  Wynkoop  family 
were  "  unlucky."  Jonas  Wynkoop,  as  he  was  fam- 
iliarly called,  had  never  been  a  success  at  farming, 
even  in  the  days  when  there  was  "  money  in  it," 
and  now  the  ninety  rocky  acres  which  were  left 
of  a  once  large  farm  did  not  begin  to  support  the 
family.  He  had  always  hated  farming,  and  had 
tried  to  do  many  other  things,  but  after  each  at- 
tempt to  better  himself  he  had  returned  to  the 
farm,  poorer  than  ever.  As  the  neighbors  were 
wont  to  say  when  they  enumerated  his  difTerent 
experiments,  "  he  had  book-agented,  kept  grocery, 


22  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

been  a  life  insurance  agent,  and  a  horse  doctor." 
Canvassing  had  been  one  of  his  favorite  ventures, 
but  whether  he  carried  "  The  Illustrated  Chart  of 
the  World's  History,"  or  "  The  American  Light- 
ning Eradicator,"  warranted  to  take  spots  out  of 
everything,  he  never  sold  his  goods.  The  charts 
lumbered  up  the  attic,  and  the  eradicator  turned 
rancid  in  the  woodshed.  He  simply  had  no  fac- 
ulty, as  his  more  enterprising  neighbors  said. 

It  was  thought  a  pity  that  there  were  no  boys 
in  the  family.  Four  girls  seemed  like  an  affliction. 
Not  that  any  of  the  older  ones  ate  any  idle  bread  ; 
far  from  it.  Emma  Anna  with  her  dressmaking, 
Charlotte  with  her  teaching,  and  Harriet  with 
her  salary  as  librarian,  had  long  kept  the  family 
fortunes  up.  Nan  was  the  only  one  who  was  not 
a  wage  earner,  and  the  villagers  took  it  for  granted 
that  she  would  follow  in  Charlotte's  steps  and  be 
a  teacher.  She  had  graduated  from  the  high 
school  the  summer  she  was  eighteen,  and  it  was 
supposed  that  she  would  "  take  a  school  "  in  the 
fall. 

She  had  always  made  pictures,  from  the  time 
she  spoiled  her  books  at  school  with  caricatures 
of  the  teachers.  When  she  was  older  she  picked 
berries  and  sold  them  to  get  money  to  buy 
her  paints,  and  she  had  worked  alone,  with  an 
occasional  lesson  from  a  local  artist.  Young  and 
ignorant  as  Nan  was,  she  guessed  that  she  was 
better  off  without  any  teaching,  and  then  for  two 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  23 

or  three  years  she  had  no  instruction  whatever. 
The  summer  she  was  seventeen  an  art  teacher 
from  New  York  had  a  summer  class  near  a  neigh- 
boring town.  Nan  was  famiHar  with  her  name, 
from  the  art  criticism  in  the  religious  weekly 
which  her  father  took.  She  selected  some  of  her 
work,  and  with  a  palpitating  heart  went  to  the 
lady  and  asked  her  if  she  could  ever  learn  to 
paint. 

Nan  was  prepared  for  a  great  disappointment, 
but  she  was  not  ready  for  the  answer  she  re- 
ceived. 

"  You  know  a  good  deal  about  painting  already. 
Your  coloring  is  quite  remarkable.  Drawing  is 
your  weak  point :  you  need  instruction,  but  your 
work  is  full  of  promise.  Now  tell  me  all  about 
yourself, — what  you  have  done,  what  you  mean 
to  do, — everything." 

There  was  not  much  to  tell,  poor  Nan  !  She 
lived  in  a  little  brown  house,  she  had  no  money, 
but  she  wanted  to  paint. 

"  There  are  thousands  of  girls  who  can  tell  the 
same  story,"  she  said,  with  a  quiver  in  her  voice, 

"  Yes  ;  but  not  more  than  a  handful  of  them 
has  the  promise  you  show.  I  shall  be  glad  to  have 
you  work  with  me,  if  you  like,  and  let  me  say  frank- 
ly that  I  wish  to  help  you  as  one  artist  may  help 
another.  So  let  us  say  nothing  of  money.  I  see 
that  you  are  independent,  and  you  hesitate  to 
take  help  from  a  stranger.     Once  I  was  just  where 


24  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

you  are ;  and  I  had  to  let  a  stranger  help  me  or 
give  up  the  art  I  loved.  I  am  glad  that  I  can  say 
I  was  sensible  enough  to  accept  help.  I'll  teach 
you  now,  and  by  and  by  you  may  pass  the  help 
on  to  some  other  girl. 

'•  Good  !  So  that  is  settled,"  said  Miss  Frost, 
when  Nan  had  thanked  her,  somewhat  awkwardly, 
it  must  be  confessed.  "  What  do  you  mean  to 
paint,  landscape  or  portraits  ?  " 

"Oh,  portraits,  by  all  means,  if  I  can." 

"There  is  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't.  I 
should  choose  portrait  painting  if  I  didn't  have 
more  talent  for  landscape.  When  you  go  to 
New  York  you  must  study  with  a  portrait 
teacher.  Meantime  you  can  learn  something  with 
me." 

That  summer  went  by  on  wings.  Nan  gave  up 
everything  else  and  worked  with  a  feverish 
anxiety ;  she  felt  that  it  might  be  her  only  op- 
portunity for  instruction,  and  she  made  the  most 
of  it.  It  was  only  a  small  class,  and  the  other 
pupils  were  very  good-natured.  They  liked  Nan 
and  they  helped  her  in  many  ways.  She  had 
the  advantage  of  hearing  the  criticisms  of  the 
work  of  the  others,  and  she  never  missed  a  word. 
Her  progress  surprised  even  Miss  Frost,  who  had 
expected  a  good  deal  of  the  girl. 

When  the  class  broke  up  Nan  felt  that  the 
world  had  come  to  an  end.  Miss  Frost  advised 
her  by  all  means  to  continue  her  work,  and  to  set 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  25 

her  heart  on  going  to  New  York  to  study.  In 
the  mean  time  she  would  net  forget  her. 

Nan  thanked  her  with  a  quivering  voice.  At  that 
time  she  saw  no  hope  of  going  on  with  her  work. 
She  must  teach  school  for  her  bread  and  shoes  ; 
art  was  a  luxury  not  to  be  thought  of.  Her 
father  could  not  help  her,  nor  would  she  take  as- 
sistance from  any  of  her  sisters.  They  were 
denying  themselves  many  things  so  that  they 
might  keep  the  roof  over  their  heads.  Nan  felt 
that  she  should  apply  for  the  Pine  Ridge  school 
and  do  her  share  toward  bearing  the  family  ex- 
penses. While  she  hesitated  some  one  else  se- 
cured the  school.  Nan  took  it  as  a  sign  that  she 
was  not  to  teach,  and  she  shut  herself  in  an  attic 
room,  which  had  nothing  to  recommend  it  for  a 
studio  but  a  north  light. 

She  had  painted  steadily  all  the  winter,  going 
twice  a  month  to  a  city  thirty  miles  distant  for  a 
criticism.  The  neighbors  calculated  the  expense 
of  these  trips,  and  guessed  that  Harriet  paid  for 
them.  They  did  not  approve  of  them.  Nan 
could  paint  well  enough  now.  Her  pictures  were 
good  enough  to  send  to  the  county  fair,  or  to  hang 
in  the  parlor.  She  never  had  sent  any  of  her 
work  to  the  fair,  and  it  was  suspected  that  she 
was  too  proud  to  do  so.  The  Wynkoop  family 
were  called  proud,  though  all  the  neighbors  agreed 
that  they  had  no  reason  to  be  ;  they  had  no 
money^  norno  good  furniture  in  their  house. 


26  Annice  Wynkoopy  Artist. 

Nan's  family  were  naturally  disappointed  that 
she  did  not  teach,  but  they  said  nothing  to  her, 
only  now  and  then  her  mother  would  shake  her 
head  over  the  girl's  shabby  dresses,  and  tell  her 
that  she  might  dress  like  a  lady  if  she  would  teach. 
Nan  wore  the  old  dresses  cheerfully,  and  went  on 
painting  in  her  cold  little  room  upstairs. 

That  winter  an  aunt  for  whom  Nan  was  named 
died,  leaving  her  a  little  legacy.  To  her  that 
meant  one  thing, — a  year  in  New  York.  Her 
mother  and  sisters  wondered  that  she  did  not  re- 
plenish her  shabby  wardrobe,  but  she  would  not 
touch  a  cent  of  the  sum.  Her  painting  improved 
every  day  after  her  hope  for  an  opportunity  for 
study  became  a  possibility.  She  realized  this 
herself,  and  she  spent  many  happy  hours  in  her 
cold  little  room.  Often  some  one  would  climb 
the  attic  stair  and  rouse  her,  when  she  would  re- 
alize that  she  was  cold  and  tired  and  hungry. 

As  the  spring  advanced  Nan's  thoughts  dwelt 
more  and  more  on  going  to  the  city  to  study,  but 
she  hesitated  to  broach  the  subject  to  her  family. 
It  was  an  unpropitious  time  to  make  any  new 
venture ;  the  family  were  poorer  than  ever,  if 
that  were  possible.  Mr.  Wynkoop  had  fallen  from 
a  barn  while  trying  to  shingle  it  to  save  carpen- 
ter's wages,  and  had  broken  his  leg.  This  kept 
him  helpless  in  the  bedroom  adjoining  the  sit- 
ting-room for  weeks.  The  spring  work  on  the 
farm  was  far  behind,  for  the  man  whom  Harriet 


A /mice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  2  J 

had  hired  took  his  own  time  and  method  of  doing 
it.  Mrs.  Wynkoop  looked  more  worried  than 
usual.  The  interest  on  the  mortgage  had  been 
raised  by  Charlotte  and  Emma  Anna,  so  the 
nightmare  of  foreclosure  was  past  for  another 
year. 

Mr.  Wynkoop  was  the  most  cheerful  member 
of  the  family  during  this  trying  time.  Always 
ill  with  some  mortal  disease,  he  had  "  enjoyed 
poor  health,"  ever  since  the  children  could  re- 
member. If  the  slightest  ailment  seized  him  the 
whole  family  had  to  wait  on  him  ;  but  this  winter 
when  he  had  been  really  ill,  he  had  borne  his 
pain  with  much  patience. 

Such  being  the  state  of  affairs,  Nan  did  not  see 
how  she  could  leave  home  and  enter  on  a  long 
and  expensive  period  of  study.  Still,  she  rea- 
soned, the  worse  circumstances  were,  the  greater 
was  the  need  for  her  to  fit  herself  for  supporting 
herself  and  helping  others. 

She  was  at  the  parting  of  three  ways.  School 
teaching  would  mean  a  living,  but  all  her  soul 
cried  out  for  a  chance  to  cultivate  the  gift  which 
she  felt  had  been  given  her.  Still  another  way 
was  open  to  her  ;  she  knew  that,  though  she  had 
not  been  told  so  in  words.  And  this  way  was  older 
than  either  art  or  schools  ;  it  was  as  old  as  the 
world.  Before  women  had  taught  or  painted 
they  had  "  married  and  settled  down."  Every 
one  in  the  town  and  in  the  farms  around  knew 


28  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

that  Mr.  Bamford,  the  principal  of  the  high 
school,  was  trying  to  "  wait  on"  Nan  Wynkoop. 
He  had  been  in  Macedonia  two  years,  and  during 
the  first  year  Nan  had  been  his  pupil.  During 
the  second  year  he  had  done  his  best  to  woo  this 
refractory  ex-pupil.  There  were  plenty  of  girls 
who  had  no  art  in  their  heads  who  were  inclined 
to  look  with  favor  on  the  young  pedagogue. 
Nan  did  not  look  on  him  with  favor,  which  partly 
accounted  for  the  ardor  of  his  suit.  What  his 
intentions  were  was  evident  to  the  most  obtuse  of 
observers,  though,  so  far.  Nan  had  kept  him  from 
explaining  them  to  her.  Nan's  family  could  not 
tell  whether  she  was  inclined  to  like  Mr.  Bamford 
or  not.  She  made  a  good  deal  of  fun  of  him,  and 
declined  to  discuss  the  subject  with  seriousness. 
Surely  life  was  full  of  interest  to  "  the  youngest 
Wynkoop  girl,"  as  she  was  usually  called. 

Nan  did  not  include  Mr.  Bamford  in  her  plans  ; 
she  would  either  teach  or  paint.  A  letter  from 
Miss  Frost,  going  into  detail  about  boarding- 
houses,  art  schools,  and  any  expense  which  would 
be  likely  to  come  up,  had  settled  Nan's  mind 
once  for  all.  She  could  have  free  instruction  at 
Cooper  Institute,  and  she  could  get  board  for 
four  dollars  a  week.  Aunt  Annice's  money  would 
cover  every  expense.  Nan  was  sure  that  she  must 
go ;  she  fought  the  battle  over  inch  by  inch,  as  she 
"drove  old  Billy  home  that  spring  morning,  and  it 
waswhile  the  bonfire  was  burning  that  the  matter 


Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist.  29 

was  settled,  as  we  have  seen.  When  her  appli- 
cation for  admission  to  Cooper  was  mailed,  she 
ceased  to  worry  about  the  matter.  She  painted 
less  than  usual  during  the  summer,  and  devoted 
herself  to  sewing  and  housework,  two  things 
which  she  disliked  as  people  with  the  artistic 
temperament  only  can  dislike  them. 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  summer  was  gone,  and  autumn  had  begun 
to  try  its  brushes  on  a  few  trees.  Annice  was 
not  making  bonfires,  but  she  was  very  busy  get- 
ting her  clothes  ready  "  to  go  to  New  York  and 
study  art."  Poor  girl,  the  thing  itself  was  still 
the  one  thing  to  be  desired,  but  she  was  very  tired 
of  having  people  speak  to  her  about  it.  Nothing, 
she  told  Harriet,  had  made  such  a  commotion 
since  the  druggist's  daughter  eloped  with  a  tin- 
peddler. 

Nan  sat  in  the  sitting-room  this  bright  autumn 
afternoon,  sewing  on  the  blue  serge  which  was  to 
be  her  winter  dress,  and  wondered  if  she  was  real- 
ly going  after  all.  It  seemed  too  good  to  be  true, 
and  she  lived  in  hourly  expectation  of  something 
which  would  keep  her  home.  She  was  so  busy 
with  her  thoughts  that  she  basted  her  sleeve  up- 
side down,  and  Emma  Anna  made  her  rip  it. 

"  It  is  a  good  sign  to  rip  a  dress,"  said  Nan 
cheerfully,  "  it  is  a  sign  that  I  will  live  to  wear  it 
out.  I  thought  it  looked  a  little  queer,  Emma 
Anna,  but  I  didn't  know  what  was  the  matter." 

As  Nan  got  up  to  find  the  scissors  she  heard 
wheels,  and  she  went  to  the  window  to  take  ob- 
30 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  31 

servations.  Mr.  Bamford  alighted  and  tied  his 
horse  to  the  hitching  post  in  front  of  the  house. 

"  •  Froggy  would  a  wooing  go ',"  hummed  Nan 
mischievously.  "  I  suppose  he  wants  me  to  go 
for  a  drive,  a  farewell  drive,  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
ought  to  go  without  a  chaperon." 

Harriet  came  in  just  then  to  say  that  Mr.  Bam- 
ford was  in  the  parlor. 

"  You  would  better  put  on  another  dress.  Nan, 
and  your  hair  is  tumbled." 

"  It  usually  is  tumbled ;  it  was  made  so.  I 
suppose  the  professor  wants  to  take  me  for  a 
drive.  It  is  proper  to  have  a  chaperon.  Emma 
Anna's  dressmaking  paper  says  that  a  young 
woman  should  take  her  mother  along  when  she 
goes  buggy  riding  with  a  young  man.  I'm  sure 
mother  won't  go,  so  you'll  have  to,  Harrie." 

"  You  would  better  hurry  and  change  your 
dress,"  laughed  Harriet.  "Imagine  Mr.  Barn- 
ford's  blank  look  if  you  were  to  propose  taking 
me." 

"  Has  the  professor  an  arithmetic  in  his  pocket? 
I  suppose  it  would  be  prudent  to  take  a  slate  and 
pencil  along;  he  might  ask  me  to  do  an  example 
in  partial  payments,  or  to  diagram  a  sentence. 
What  should  I  do  if  he  should  ask  me  to  parse 
'Satan,  than  whom  none  higher  sate.'  " 

Harriet  pushed  her.  "  Don't  be  so  silly.  Mr. 
Bamford  is  a  nice  young  man,  only  he  is  a  little 
teachery.     You'll  see  the  time,  perhaps,  when  you 


32  Annice   Wyttkoop,  Artist. 

are  a  shabby  artist,  living  on  crackers,  without 
cheese,  that  you'll  wish  that  you  were  Mrs.  Bam- 
ford,  getting  your  living  from  the  very  teaching 
that  you  despise." 

"  I  couldn't  marry  him ;  he  would  be  sure  to 
review  me  on  the  multiplication  table,  and  I  don't 
know  my  'leven  times  yet.  Don't  look  so  stern, 
Harriet,  it  isn't  becoming.  I  am  going  this  min- 
ute. Bound  Connecticut.  Give  the  table  for  Troy 
weight.  State  the  causes  which  led  to  the  Rev- 
olutionary War.  There,  I  think  I  have  my  mind 
somewhat  limbered  up.  I  hope  I'll  get  a  hundred 
on  this  examination." 

Mr.  Bamford  and  Nan  took  the  road  over  the 
hills,  and  as  the  horse  mounted  the  first  spurs  of 
the  Catskills,  he  turned  from  a  dissertation  on 
geological  formations  to  ask, 

"When  do  you  leave,  Miss  Annice?" 

"  Next  Friday." 

"  Ah,  I  apprehended  that  this  might  be  your 
last  Saturday,  and  I  could  not  let  the  opportunity 
slip.  I  trust  you  do  not  intend  to  remain  long 
in  New  York." 

"  I  shall  stay  till  next  spring,  unless  my  money 
gives  out,"  said  the  practical  young  woman  by 
his  side.  "  And  if  I  can  scrape  together  enough 
money  I  shall  go  on  indefinitely. 

"  That  will  settle  his  mind,"  thought  Nan, 
wickedly. 

"  I  regret,"  said  Mr.  Bamford,  speaking  slowly, 


Annice    Wynkoop,  Artist.  33 

"  that  you  are  to  add  to  the  long  list  of  young 
women  who  are  rushing  to  our  large  cities.  Many 
are  sure  to  meet  with  disappointment,  for  all  can't 
succeed." 

Nan  bit  her  lip,  but  made  no  reply.  The  pro- 
fessor flicked  a  fly  from  the  horse,  and  went  on, 
"  And  if  they  do  succeed,  what  then  ?  " 

"  Why,   success,  of  course,"  replied  Nan,  flip- 
pantly. 

"  Success,  as  I  understand  it,  is  a  hollow  thing. 
The  women  who  are  wearing  out  heart  and  brain 
and  nerve  in  this  mad  struggle  for  success  might 
rather  be  in  the  home  of  some  good,  honest  man, 
fulfilling  the  offices  God  made  them  for." 

"  Mem.,"  thought  Nan,  "  '  never  use  a  preppsi- 
tion  to  end  a  sentence  with.'  " 

**  You  are  very  sure  what  God  made  women 
for,"  Nan  said  aloud,  smiling  a  little.  "I  am  not 
so  sure.  I  think  that  people  lay  our  lives  out  for 
us.  How  would  you  like  to  have  your  life  laid 
out  for  you  after  a  cut-and-dried  plan  ?  No  man 
would  stand  it,  and  I  fail  to  see  why  women 
should." 

"  They  don't ;  more's  the  pity.  There  is  some- 
thing in  the  air, — a  revolt  from  the  good  old  ways 
of  our  mothers  and  grandmothers,  and  the  foun- 
dations of  society  are  shaken.  I  have  no  idea 
whether  you  will  be  successful  or  not,  Miss  Annice, 
but  I  cannot  find  it  in  my  heart  to  hope  that  you 
will  succeed.  Perhaps  you  can  guess  why.  It 
3 


34  Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist. 

may  be  a  selfish  reason,  but  I  am  not  the  first 
man  to  harbor  selfishness  of  this  kind." 

"  Please,  Mr.  Bamford,  don't  propose  to  me.    I 

want   to   be    able    to    say  that    I    never  refused 

»» 
you. 

"  The  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  do.  Accept 
me." 

"  Don't  pretend  to  misunderstand  me.  I  want 
to  be  able  to  say  that  you  have  never  proposed 
to  me.  You  haven't  yet,  you  know,  so  please 
stop,"  Nan  repeated  lamely. 

"  I  won't  ask  you  to  marry  me,  now,  Annice, 
but  when  the  art  fails  please  remember  that  there 
is  a  place  for  you  in  my  heart,  in  my  home.  No 
one  else  can  fill  it,  even  though  the  art  is  so  suc- 
cessful that  you  never  give  a  thought  to  the 
lonely  man  who — " 

"  Mr.  Bamford,  I  asked  you  not  to  go  on.  I 
think  it  is  a  shame  to  spoil  my  last  view  of  these 
hills.  You  croak  like  a  raven  and  wish  me  bad 
luck,  and  then  tell  me  if  I  can't  make  a  success  of 
art  to  come  back  and  wear  aprons  and  make 
puddings.  I  may  as  we'll  tell  you  that  I  hate  to 
make  puddings  and  I  never  wear  aprons  except 
painting  aprons,  and  there  are  no  strings  to  those, 
I  was  afraid  you  would  say — things,  and  we  would 
have  an  unpleasant  time,  and  we  have  had  it. 
Now  please  talk  of  something  else.  Do  you 
see  that  woodbine  over  there,  flung  against  the 
dark  green  of  that  tree  ?  " 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  3$ 

"  I  see,"  said  the  schoolmaster  absently. 
"  Annice,  tell  me,  if  you  were  to  find  out  that  you 
have  no  talent  for  painting  would  you  keep  on, 
just  to — " 

"But  I  have  talent.  I  don't,  for  a  moment, 
doubt  it.  I  know  that  I  can  paint,  just  as  you 
know  that  you  can  solve  difficult  problems  in 
mathematics.  I  am  not  a  child.  Besides,  those 
artists  at  the  summer  school  last  summer  saw 
much  promise  in  my  work.  Miss  Frost  ought  to 
know  what  she  is  talking  about,  and  she  has  been 
the  means  of  my  going  to  the  city  to  study.  I 
feel  called ;  I  have  no  right  to  neglect  a  gift, 
when  I  feel  so  about  it." 

"  You  are  too  young  a  girl  to  be  away  from 
your  mother." 

"  I  have  common  sense,  and  I  dare  say  I  can 
be  trusted  to  behave  myself." 

"  Where  do  you  intend  to  live  ?  Have  you 
relatives  in  the  city?  " 

"  No.  Since  you  insist  on  knowing,  I  will  tell 
you  all  that  I  know.  Miss  Frost  has  engaged  a 
boarding-place  for  me,  and  she  will  meet  me  at 
the  station.     So  I  think  I  shall  be  safe." 

"  You  will  write  to  me,  Annice  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  prefer  not  to  write.  I  dislike  letter- 
writing,  and  I  shall  be  exceedingly  busy.  This 
is  life  or  death  to  me,  Mr.  Bamford,  and  I  must 
put  my  whole  mind  on  my  work.  You  will  come 
to  see  me  next  summer  and  I  will  show  you  how 


36  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

much  my  painting  has  improved,  and  one  of  these 
days,  I  hope,  you  will  bring  Mrs.  Bamford  to  see 
me." 

Nan  dared  this  much,  because  they  had  stopped 
before  the  house.  He  couldn't  say  anything 
then.  But  the  professor  gave  her  as  good  as  he 
took. 

"  I  shall  never  introduce  Mrs.  Bamford  to  you, 
Annice.  I  have  a  conviction  that  you  will  yet 
bear  that  name.  I  can  wait.  I  never  yet  set  my 
heart  on  anything  that  I  did  not  get  it,  and  I 
have  set  my  heart  on  you.  Nan  Wynkoop." 

Mr.  Bamford  had  helped  her  from  the  buggy, 
and  was  prolonging  the  process  of  shaking  hands 
as  long  as  possible.  "  I  hope  you  will  keep  well," 
he  said  stififly,  as  he  dropped  her  hand. 

"  Wish  me  success,"  said  Nan,  her  eyes  danc- 
ing. 

"  No  ;  I  will  not  say  more  than  I  feel.  And 
since  I  have  given  bonds  to  keep  the  peace  I 
may  not  say  all  I  feel."  And  the  schoolmaster 
gave  his  ex-pupil  a  searching  look,  which  made 
her  color  rise  for  the  first  time  that  afternoon. 

"  Good-by,"  she  said  gaily.  "  You  will  see 
the  day  that  you  will  tell  your  pupils  that  one  of 
the  most  giddy  girls  that  ever  came  to  school  to 
you  is  a  great  portrait  painter."  And  Nan  van- 
ished into  the  house. 

Supper  was  waiting,  and  Nan  ate  her  share  of 
it  with  a  keen  relish  after  her  ride  over  the  hills. 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  37 

Once  or  twice  during  the  meal  her  eyes  were 
dewy  as  she  realized  that  in  a  week  from  that 
time  she  would  be  gone,  but  she  could  not 
be  unhappy.  Her  wings  were  beating  against 
her  narrow  cage,  and  she  was  impatient  to  try 
them. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Nan  was  met  at  the  Grand  Central  station  by 
Miss  Frost  and  another  lady.  Miss  Frost  seemed 
very  glad  to  see  Nan,  and  she  introduced  her  to 
Miss  Dunning  as  a  most  promising  creature  whom 
she  had  discovered.  The  two  ladies  had  just 
come  from  a  water-color  exhibition,  and  they 
talked  all  the  way  downtown  about  the  pictures, 
so  Nan  had  nothing  to  divert  her  from  the  home- 
sick feeling  which  was  stealing  over  her.  She 
was  tired  after  her  journey,  and  she  longed  to 
get  into  her  own  room  and  rest.  She  wondered 
what  the  room  would  be  like.  It  must  be  small, 
of  course,  for  she  was  to  pay  very  little  for  it, 
but  no  matter  how  small  it  was  it  would  be  her 
own,  and  she  would  soon  make  it  seem  home- 
like with  her  own  things. 

"  We  get  out  here,"  said  Miss  Frost,  "  it  is  only 
a  tiny  walk  to  your  boarding-place.  I  hope  you 
will  like  the  arrangements  I  have  made." 

A  rather  grim-looking  maid  opened  the  door  of 
an  old-fashioned  house  in  answer  to  Miss  Frost's 
ring.  The  parlor  was  a  long  room,  fairly  well 
furnished.  In  a  conspicuous  place  on  the  wall 
was  a  framed  notice,  which  called  attention  to 

38 


Annice   Wynkoop^  Artist.  39 

the  fact  that  the  inmates  of  this  house  were  ex- 
pected to  conduct  themselves  in  a  quiet  and  lady- 
like manner.  The  maid  came  back  in  a  moment 
and  told  Nan  that  her  room  was  ready,  and  Miss 
Frost  went  up  with  her.  The  maid  tapped  at 
the  door  of  a  front  room  on  the  third  floor. 
"  Come  in,"  said  a  voice,  and  the  ladies  followed 
her  in.  It  was  a  large  room,  as  large  as  the  par- 
lor below,  and  it  was  well  that  it  was  large,  for  it 
contained  four  beds,  four  washstands,  a  large 
table,  and  a  number  of  chairs. 

"  This  is  your  corner,"  said  the  maid,  pointing  to 
one  of  the  little  white  beds.  "  This  is  your  wash- 
stand,  and  I  will  show  you  where  to  hang  your 
clothes.  You'll  have  to  unpack  your  things  in 
the  hall ;  trunks  are  not  allowed  in  the  rooms." 

When  the  maid  went  out  Nan  turned  to  Miss 
Frost.  "  There  must  be  some  mistake ;  there 
are  four  beds  here,  and  I  thought  I  was  to  have 
a  room  alone.  I  never  dreamed, — why,  I  must 
have  a  room  alone." 

"  My  dear  child,  I  thought  of  course  that  you 
understood  that  at  the  price  I  named  you  would 
have  to  be  satisfied  with  board  in  one  of  these 
houses.  Christian  Homes,  they  are  called,  and 
they  are  perfectly  respectable.  Indeed,  you  will 
find  some  very  fine  women  here, — art  students, 
like  yourself,  medical  students,  and  teachers." 

"  It  doesn't  seem  that  I  can  stand  it,"  said  Nan, 
her  voice  quivering.     "  If  I  had  known — " 


40  Atmice   VVynkoopy  Artist. 

"  If  you  had  known  you  would  not  have  at- 
tempted to  study  art,  you  were  going  to  say. 
Nonsense.  You  would  have  made  the  mistake  of 
your  life.  I  began  just  this  way  when  I  first 
studied,  and  I  lived  through  it.  Try  it  a  while, 
and  if  you  really  find  that  you  can't  stand  it  I 
will  see  what  can  be  done.  For  the  price  you 
pay  here  you  can't  get  a  room  alone.  Six  dollars 
a  week  would  be  the  least,  and  that  would  mean 
a  hall  room  and  no  fire.  Here  you  have  fire, 
though  I  suppose  you  don't  care  to  consider  that 
inducement  on  such  a  warm  evening.  Now  I 
must  go.  I  want  you  to  come  to  a  tea  at  my 
studio  to-morrow.  I'll  show  you  so  many  artis- 
tic people  that  you  will.be  in  love  with  New 
York.     Good-by,  then,  till  to-morrow." 

A  bell  clashed  in  the  hall  below  before  Nan  had 
finished  washing  her  face  and  hands  at  the  wash- 
stand  that  was  said  to  be  hers.  A  middle-aged 
woman  had  been  in  the  room  all  the  time,  and 
now  two  more  women  came  in.  Nan  was  too  heart- 
sick to  care  how  many  came,  and  they  did  not 
seem  to  mind  her  in  the  least.  They  gave  her 
good  evening,  and  one  of  them  asked  her  pleas- 
antly if  she  had  just  come  to  the  city.  The 
middle-aged  woman,  whom  the  others  called  Miss 
Tarbell,  asked  Nan  if  she  was  ready,  and  offered  to 
show  her  the  way  to  the  dining-room.  Nan 
thanked  her  and  followed  her  downstairs  till  they 
reached  the  basement.  They  went  through  a  long, 


Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist.  41 

dark  hall,  piled  high  with  trunks.  Nan  wondered 
if  hers  must  go  there  too,  and  how  she  would 
ever  get  into  it. 

The  tables  were  filled  already,  and  the  maids 
were  dispensing  soup.  As  she  drank  her  soup 
Nan  realized  that  she  was  hungry.  The  dinner 
consisted  of  boiled  mutton,  boiled  potatoes, 
stewed  tomatoes,  with  bread  pudding  and  coffee 
for  dessert.  "  I  shouldn't  have  had  any  more  at 
home,"  thought  Nan.  "  I  shouldn't  have  had  so 
much,  for  we  don't  have  soup  every  day,  but 
everything  would  have  been  so  different." 

Most  of  the  boarders  ate  their  dinners  with 
evident  relish,  though  some  complained  that  the 
mutton  was  tough,  or  the  potatoes  soggy.  Some 
of  the  ladies  had  dressed  for  dinner,  but  most  of 
them  were  just  as  they  came  from  work.  Nan 
tried  to  count  them,  and  then  fell  to  wondering 
what  they  all  did  "  for  their  livings."  Before  the 
bread  pudding  was  served  she  had  a  fair  idea  of 
the  girls  who  sat  near  her,  for  they  all  talked 
"  shop."  Two  medical  students  discussed  a 
*'  subject  "  which  they  had  dissected  that  day, 
with  total  disregard  for  the  feelings  of  their  neigh- 
bors. A  young  girl,  evidently  an  art  student, 
told  that  she  had  had  a  perfectly  horrid  criticism 
that  afternoon.  Another  girl,  with  a  sallow  com- 
plexion, complained  in  loud  tones  of  her  indiges- 
tion, and  the  medical  student  in  her  last  year 
prescribed  for  her.     A  sweet-faced  woman,  whom 


42  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

Nan  guessed  to  be  a  Christian  Scientist,  reproved 
her  for  admitting  that  she  was  not  altogether 
well,  thereby  calling  down  on  herself  much  good- 
natured  banter.  The  public  school  teacher,  who 
was  one  of  Nan's  room-mates,  gave  a  detailed  ac- 
count of  the  visit  of  an  objectionable  special 
teacher,  and  was  promptly  silenced  by  her  left- 
hand  neighbor,  who  told  her  that  no  matter  what 
her  woes  were,  she  had  her  Saturdays  and  a  long 
vacation  every  summer,  and  asked  her  how  she 
would  like  to  click  away  at  a  typewriter  forty- 
nine  weeks  in  the  year. 

"  There,  they  are  at  it  again,"  said  the  girl  next 
to  Nan.  "  They  are  always  having  that  over.  I 
wish  they  would  keep  still.  We  all  work  hard 
enough  all  day,  and  it  is  a  shame  to  have  the 
troubles  of  the  day  over  at  dinner.  What  do  you 
do?" 

Nan  was  surprised  for  a  moment.  It  was  not 
long  before  it  seemed  quite  the  natural  thing  to 
ask  what  a  girl  did. 

"  I  don't  do  anything,"  she  stammered.  "  I  am, 
that  is,  I  am  going  to  study  art." 

"  Where  ?     At  the  League  ?  " 

"  No  ;  at  Cooper." 

"That  girl  in  the  pink  waist  studies  at  the 
League.  She  does  water  color,  and  it  is  all  one 
can  hear  from  morning  till  night.  She  is  in  the 
room  with  me,  so  I  am  a  victim.  I  came  here  to 
study  art,  but  I  soon  gave  it  up." 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  43 

"Why?     Didn't  you  have  talent?" 

"Yes,  as  n:iuch  as  the  average  art  student,  but 
I  found  that  art  was  very  long  and  my  funds 
were  very  short.  I  was  considered  a  marvel  in 
Petoskey.  You  don't  know  where  Petoskey  is? 
It  is  in  Michigan,  and  my  pictures  were  praised 
in  the  papers.  After  I  came  here  I  found  what 
they  were  worth.  I  went  to  an  art  school  and 
they  set  me  to  drawing  from  the  cast.  That  is 
the  first  thing  you  do.  You  draw  from  the  block 
till  you  have  nothing  left  to  live  on,  then  you 
draw  from  the  round.  I  didn't  know  how  to  draw 
at  all ;  I  had  wasted  my  time  drawing  from  the  flat, 
copying  pictures,  you  know,  and  it  really  was  worse 
than  doing  nothing.  I  saw  it  would  take  years  of 
work  to  begin  to  do  anything,  so  I  gave  the  whole 
thing  up.  I  felt  that  the  world  had  nothing  left 
for  me,  but  I  have  managed  to  get  along  very 
comfortably  without  art.  I  have  money  enough 
to  live  on,  and  that  is  more  than  I  would  have 
had  if  I  had  gone  on  with  art." 

"  What  is  your  business,  if  you  don't  mind  my 
asking." 

"  Of  course  I  don't.  I  am  a  bookkeeper.  I 
learned  in  one  winter,  and  I  got  a  position  right 
away.  I  have  just  come  back  from  my  vacation, 
and  I  came  here  for  a  few  days,  till  I  could  find 
another  boarding  place.  I  shan't  stay  here  long. 
What  do  you  think  of  it  ?  You  needn't  say  ;  I 
have  been  watching  you,  and  I  know  you  think 


44  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

it  is  dreadful.  It  is.  If  you  can  afford  it  go 
somewhere  else.  Don't  stay  in  a  C.  H.  unless 
you  must." 

"AC.  H?"  repeated  Nan. 

"  Short  for  Christian  Home.  This  is  one  ;  but 
of  course  you  know.  They  all  are  run  by  some 
church  or  some  organization,  but  you  may  depend 
that  they  don't  lose  anything  by  their  philan- 
thropy. They  all  are  pretty  much  of  a  muchness ; 
this  one  is  the  best,  so  far  as  the  table  is  con- 
cerned. But  we  must  go.  Everyone  else  has 
gone,  and  the  waitress  is  looking  daggers  at  us. 

"  What  room  are  you  in  ?  O  yes  ;  third  floor 
front.  Miss  Tarbell  is  there,  and  Miss  Stearns 
and  Miss  Jennings.  Miss  Tarbell  is  principal  of 
one  of  the  schools,  and  her  salary  is  $1,750  a  year. 
Whatever  she  boards  here  for  I  don't  know. 
Miss  Stearns  is  a  stenographer,  and  Miss  Jen- 
nings is — I  don't  know  what.  Sometimes  she 
'  book  agents  ' ;  and  sometimes  she  makes  crayon 
portraits.     She  is  quite  a  study." 

"  Are  there  four  girls  in  every  room  ?  "  Nan 
asked. 

"  No  ;  sometimes  there  are  more.  In  the  room 
over  the  back  parlor  there  are  five  girls  ;  and  this 
room,  mind  you,  has  no  outside  window,  but  it 
opens  into  an  extension  where  there  are  two  more 
girls.  Don't  look  so  shocked  ;  they  are  very  nice 
girls.  Two  of  the  five  are  medical  students,  one 
is  an  artist,  one  does  drawing  for  a  fashion  mag- 


Annie e  Wynkoop,  Artist.  45 

azine,  and  the  other  is  studying  stenography.  In 
the  extension  is  another  medical  student  and  a 
city  missionary.  I  wonder  that  the  board  of 
health  isn't  after  that  room,  though  none  of  the 
girls  seem  sickly.  The  very  idea  of  people  being 
huddled  together  like  that  is  immoral.  The  world 
is  big  enough  for  every  one  to  have  a  place  of  her 
own,  and  I  believe  the  Lord  meant  it  so  when  He 
made  such  a  big  world." 

"Are  there  no  smaller  rooms  where  there  are 
fewer  girls?" 

"  Yes  ;  a  few  rooms  have  partitions  through 
them,  and  there  are  two  girls  on  each  side  of  the 
partition.  But  those  rooms  are  always  snapped 
right  up  ;  everybody  wants  one.  There  are  hall- 
rooms,  with  two  girls  in  each  one.  That  is  really 
worse  than  four  in  a  large  one." 

Nan  and  her  new  acquaintance  had  gradually 
climbed  the  stairs  as  they  talked,  and  now  they 
halted  before  Nan's  door. 

"  I  hope  you  won't  be  very  lonely.  Let  me 
know  if  I  can  do  anything  for  you.  What  did 
you  say  your  name  is  ?  I  am  Miss  Jamieson. 
Good  night." 

Nan  opened  the  door  of  the  room  where  her 
bed  was ;  she  felt  that  she  could  not,  even  in  her 
thoughts,  call  it  her  room.  All  of  her  room-mates 
were  in  ;  Miss  Stearns  sat  by  the  lamp,  trimming 
a  hat,  Miss  Jennings  was  reading,  and  Miss  Tar- 
bell  sat  in  the  big  rocking-chair,  doing  nothing. 


46  Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist. 

Nan  took  from  her  bag  some  note-paper  and  her 
fountain-pen,  Harriet's  gift,  and  sat  down  to  write 
home.  She  had  no  more  than  dated  her  letter, 
when  some  one  rapped  at  the  door.  It  was  a 
maid,  who  said  that  Nan's  trunk  had  come,  and 
she  must  unpack  it  that  night,  for  it  must  be  car- 
ried down  to  the  basement  before  breakfast. 

Nan  was  too  tired  to  move,  but  she  went  down 
and  unpacked  her  dresses  and  a  few  other  things 
which  she  was  likely  to  need  during  the  next  few 
days.  She  would  not  take  out  everything,  for 
she  did  not  mean  to  stay.  After  three  or  four 
trips,  she  hung  her  dresses  in  the  wardrobe,  and 
put  her  other  belongings  in  her  bureau.  Then 
she  took  up  her  pen  again,  and  wrote  rapidly,  in 
a  clear,  bold  hand,  the  library  hand  she  had  learned 
from  Harriet. 

"  My  Dear,  Dear  People, 

"  I  am  in  New  York,  safe  and 
sound,  but  I  am  in  a  big  room  with  three  other 
women,  and  we  all  are  expected  to  sleep,  wash, 
dress,  and  sit  together.  In  some  rooms  there  are 
five  women,  instead  of  four.  I  feel  as  if  I  were 
some  one  else,  and  not  Nan  Wynkoop  at  all.  This 
is  what  Miss  Frost  meant  when  she  wrote  that  I 
could  get  board  for  four  dollars  a  week.  She 
supposed  that  I  understood  all  about  it.  It's 
simply  awful.  The  girls  all  seem  nice,  but  think 
of  it,  four  people  all  huddled  up  together ! 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  47 

"  There  were  at  least  seven  thousand  women 
in  the  dining-room  to-night,  all  gabbling  about 
art  and  medicine  and  type-writers  and  sewing- 
machines.  The  medical  students  talk  about  their 
dissecting,  and  one  of  them  who  sat  near  me 
smelled  of  carbolic.  Horrible  !  I  know  I  shall 
die.  I  would  rather  teach  school,  and  that  I  al- 
ways considered  the  last  hope." 

Nan  suddenly  stopped  writing,  and  read  her 
letter  over.  Then  she  tore  it  into  bits,  and  wrote 
another  one. 

"  My  Dear  People, 

"  I  reached  New  York  safely. 
Nothing  happened  on  the  journey,  and  Miss 
Frost  met  me  and  came  down  to  the  boarding- 
house  with  me.  My  quarters  are  comfortable, — 
literally,  my  quarter,  thought  poor  Nan, — and  I 
think  the  house  quite  as  good  as  I  can  expect 
for  the  price  I  pay.  My  trunk  has  come,  and  I 
have  unpacked  some  of  my  things.  I  will  write 
more  on  Monday,  after  I  have  been  to  the  art 
school.  All  write  very  soon,  please.  Love  to 
everybody. 

*'  Nan." 

Nan  did  not  close  her  eyes  till  long  after  mid- 
night. When  she  was  very  sure  that  everybody 
was  asleep,  she  had  a  good  cry  with  her  head  well 
under  the  bed-clothes.     Home  seemed  as  far  away 


48^  Annice   Wynkoop^  Artist. 

as  if  in  another  world.  She  could  not  believe 
that  she  was  the  same  girl  who  had  talked  to  Mr. 
Bamford  on  the  sphere  of  women,  and  who  had 
declared  herself  ready  to  suffer  anything  for  art's 
sake. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Nan  was  in  the  midst  of  a  delightful  dream 
about  home  when  she  was  awakened  by  Miss 
Jennings,  who  was  giving  a  graphic  description 
of  a  new  gown  she  was  having  made.  Everything 
came  back  to  Nan  in  an  instant ;  she  was  not  in 
her  little  green  and  white  nest,  but  in  the  big, 
bare  room,  with  three  other  women.  All  were 
up,  and  more  or  less  ready  for  breakfast.  Nan  lay 
still,  thinking  she  would  not  rise  till  the  others 
had  gone  down  to  breakfast. 

But  Miss  Tarbell  spoke.  "  Miss  Wynkoop,  you 
would  better  get  up.  If  you  are  not  down  at  the 
stated  time  the  dining-room  door  will  be  locked, 
and  the  unfortunate  young  woman  who  is  late 
may  beat  upon  that  door  till  she  is  tired ;  Martha 
never  opens  it." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Nan,  and  she  at  once  began 
her  toilet. 

Many  of  the  young  women  ate  breakfast  with 
their  hats  on.  They  seemed  in  a  great  hurry, 
and  one  or  two  who  were  not  waited  on  at  once 
went  to  business  without  any  breakfast.  Three- 
fourths  of  the  boarders  went  into  the  kitchen 
after  breakfast,  and  brought  out  a  bag  which  con- 
4  49 


50  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

tained  luncheon.  Nan  watched  one  girl  examine 
hers.  It  proved  to  be  a  sandwich,  a  banana,  and 
two  ginger-snaps. 

"  Must  every  one  carry  luncheons  ? "  Nan 
asked  of  her  neighbor  with  whom  she  had  talked 
the  evening  before. 

"No;  some  of  the  girls  come  home.  Those 
who  work  too  far  away  to  come  home  at  noon 
carry  their  luncheons.  How  do  you  think  you 
are  going  to  like  it?  Not  the  lunch,  but  the  C. 
H.?" 

Nan  shook  her  head.  **  I  shall  not  stay.  I  am 
going  out  this  very  morning  to  look  for  a  room. 
I  can't  stand  being  all  huddled  up  together.  I 
feel  like  an  orphan  asylum  or  something." 

"You  can't  find  anything  else  at  this  price,  I'll 
tell  you  that  before  you  look.  Still,  you  can  get 
a  hall-room  quite  cheap.  I'll  go  with  you  if  you 
wait  till  afternoon.     I  have  a  half  holiday." 

"  I  should  like  to  have  you  go  with  me,  but  I 
can't  go  this  afternoon.  I  am  going  to  Miss 
Frost's  to  a  studio  tea,  and  I  don't  want  to  be  tired 
before  I  go.  So  I  think  I  will  start  out  alone 
right  after  breakfast." 

"  Is  your  Miss  Frost  the  Jessica  Frost  who 
paints  flowers  so  wonderfully  ?  She  is  really  quite 
distinguished." 

"  I  suppose  she  is  the  one  ;  her  name  is  Jes- 
sica." 

"  You  are  in  great  luck  to  know  her.    She  is  a 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  51 

great  swell,  and  the  girls  are  wild  to  get  invited 
to  her  studio.  I  mean  the  girls  who  paint  or 
think  they  can." 

'*  I  know  Miss  Frost  very  well.  She  had  a 
summer  class  near  my  home,  and  I  painted  with 
her.  It  was  she  who  encouraged  me  to  come  to 
New  York." 

"  You'll  be  on  your  feet  in  no  time  if  you  are 
in  with  any  well-known  people.  You  would  better 
look  up  a  good  boarding  place.  If  you  have  a 
good  address,  no  matter  if  your  room  is  on  the 
fifth  floor,  and  a  good  gown  or  two,  you'll  get 
along." 

"  I  am  not  counting  on  anything  but  hard  work," 
said  Nan,  "  so  it  doesn't  matter  where  I  live,  ex- 
cept for  my  own  comfort.  I  don't  expect  to  know 
anybody." 

"  I  imagine  you  will,  and  if  you  have  the  chance 
of  any  good  times,  take  them  ;  you  will  do  all  the 
better  with  your  work  for  having  a  little  fun. 
I'll  look  over  the  morning  paper,  if  I  can  get  my 
hands  on  it,  and  mark  some  advertisements  for 
boarders.  I  know  nearly  all  the  boarding-houses 
around  here.  I'll  give  you  a  hint ;  don't  go  to 
any  house  where  there  is  a  folding-bed  in  the 
parlor." 

"  A  folding-bed  ?  I  beg  pardon  for  repeating 
your  words,  but  why  should  anyone  have  a  fold- 
ing-bed in  the  parlor  ?  " 

*'  To  sleep  in,  of  course.     Keep  a  sharp  lookout, 


52  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist, 

if  you  are  not  used  to  these  inventions,  for  they 
are  in  all  forms, — cabinets,  desks,  sideboards, 
pianos,  etc.  You  don't  want  to  get  in  a  house 
where  there  is  one  of  these  things  in  the  parlor, 
and  where  the  landlady  comes  in  when  you  have 
company,  and  looks  daggers  at  you,  because  she 
wants  to  put  some  one  to  bed  in  the  folding- 
bed." 

"  I  never  saw  a  folding-bed  in  my  life." 

"You  will,  if  you  stay  in  New  York.  I  have 
slept  in  every  kind  that  ever  was  invented.  I 
know  I  shall  be  killed  by  one  yet,  for  I  have  had 
them  go  up  with  me,  and  fall  down  with  me,  to 
say  nothing  of  having  my  back  broken  with  spring- 
less  ones.  Here  is  the  paper  ;  I'll  mark  some  ads 
for  you." 

Nan  copied  the  numbers,  and  soon  after  break- 
fast started  out  on  her  search.  She  went  bravely 
from  house  to  house,  but  in  every  case  the  answer 
was  the  same,  there  were  no  hall-rooms  to  be  had. 
Landladies  explained  that  vacations  were  over, 
and  people  had  come  back  from  the  country,  so 
the  hall-rooms  were  eagerly  snapped  up. 

One  of  the  houses  was  for  furnished  rooms  only. 
The  landlady  was  very  agreeable,  and  she  showed 
Nan  a  room  which  she  said  was  just  what  she 
wanted.  Nan  was  by  no  means  sure  of  that  ;  she 
had  no  idea  of  a  place  where  she  could  not  have 
her  meals. 

"  You  won't  mind  that,"  the  landlady  replied ; 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  53 

"  you  won't  want  three  meals  a  day.  You  can 
have  a  gas  stove  and  get  you  an  egg  about  eleven 
o'clock,  and  you  can  go  out  to  your  dinner  about 
four.     Lots  of  my  roomers  manage  that  way." 

Nan  at  last  got  away  from  the  woman  ;  even 
the  prospect  of  getting  an  egg  for  herself  had  no 
charms  for  her. 

The  next  house  she  tried  had  no  single  rooms, 
but  this  landlady  had  a  double  room.  There  was 
a  young  lady  in  it  now,  but  she  couldn't  afford  to 
keep  it  alone,  and  wanted  a  room-mate. 

"  I  am  quite  sure  that  I  shouldn't  care  for  it," 
said  Nan,  rising.  If  there  was  anything  that  she 
didn't  want,  it  was  a  room-mate,  poor  child. 

"  She  is  a  very  nice  girl.  I  am  sure  you  two 
would  be  congenial,"  the  woman  went  on.  *'  She 
is  a  lovely  girl,  and  she  is  a  saleslady  at  Macy's." 

There  was  nothing  to  be  done.  Nan  realized 
this,  and  she  went  home  to  a  lunch  of  cold  mut- 
ton, bread  and  butter,  tea,  and  stewed  prunes, 
feeling  very  much  discouraged.  She  would  stay 
where  she  was  for  a  while,  and  if  she  couldn't 
stand  it,  she  would  pay  more  for  her  board  and 
be  in  New  York  a  shorter  time  than  she  had 
expected. 

All  the  room-mates  were  out  when  she  went  up- 
stairs, and  she  threw  herself  on  her  bed  and  con- 
gratulated herself. 

"  The  room  looks  like  a  hospital,  or  I  suppose 
it  does ;  I  never  saw  a  hospital."     She  looked 


54  Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist, 

about  her  more  closely  than  she  had  had  time  to 
do  before.  Each  corner  was  devoted  to  the  lares 
and  penates  of  its  occupant,  and  the  effect  of 
the  whole  was  highly  striking.  Miss  Stearns  had 
churchly-looking  calendars  and  a  little  row  of 
devotional  books  in  her  corner,  with  pictures  of 
a  saint  or  two.  Miss  Jennings  was  collecting 
posters,  and  had  her  wall  completely  covered 
with  them.  The  school-teacher's  corner  boasted 
a  desk,  with  a  row  of  pedagogical  books  and 
teachers'  periodicals  on  top.  A  picture  of 
"  Pestalozzi  Taking  Leave  of  his  Orphans  at 
Stanz,"  and  a  portrait  of  Froebel,  hung  over  the 
desk.  Nan  had  heard  of  Pestalozzi  and  Froebel 
at  a  teachers'  institute  which  she  attended,  which 
was  the  precise  period  in  her  life  when  she  de- 
cided that  she  did  not  want  to  teach  school. 

Nan's  corner  was  bare  of  decoration.  She  had 
left  her  treasures  in  the  bottom  of  her  trunk,  and 
the  trunk  was  piled  on  six  others  in  the  base- 
ment. If  she  ever  could  find  a  little  room  where 
she  could  be  alone,  she  would  put  her  things  up, 
— her  Winged  Victory,  her  Venus  di  Milo,  her 
sketches,  and  her  books.  Till  then  she  would 
get  along  with  her  toilet  articles,  and  forget  that 
she  had  the  familiar  things  in  the  basement. 
What  would  the  art  school  be  like,  and  would 
people  think  she  had  talent.  Her  thoughts  were 
becoming  hazy,  and  in  a  few  moments  she  was 
fast  asleep. 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist,  55 

When  she  awoke  she  was  surprised  to  find  how 
late  it  was.  Miss  Tarbell  had  come  in.  She  had 
been  shopping,  and  she  was  very  warm.  She  put 
on  a  h'ght  wrapper  and  brewed  herself  some 
lemonade. 

Nan  was  refreshed  by  her  nap,  and  she  began 
dressing  for  her  visit  to  Miss  Frost.  At  home 
she  would  have  worn  a  white  dress  and  a  ribbon 
collar  and  belt,  but  instinct  told  her  that  the 
white  dress  would  not  be  suitable  now.  She 
took  out  her  summer  dress  of  light  gray,  and  the 
pretty  straw  hat  which  matched  it.  Emma  Anna 
had  sent  "  the  youngest"  out  in  the  world  with 
a  few  well-made  gowns.  Nan  was  glad  now  that 
she  had  them,  though  she  had  hated  to  appro- 
priate any  of  her  little  hoard  to  dress. 

She  wore  her  clothes  well,  having  that  indes- 
cribable, though  much-to-be-desired  quality  known 
as  style,  and  she  looked  very  sweet  and  attrac- 
tive when  she  went  up  to  speak  to  her  hostess. 

"  O  Annice,  I  am  so  glad  you  are  here.  You 
look  as  fresh  as  a  rose.  I  want  you  to  meet  all 
of  these  people.  Miss  Dunning  you  saw  yes- 
terday. Come  here,  Mr.  Allison,  I  want  to  in- 
troduce you  to  my  friend  Miss  Wynkoop.  I 
want  it  distinctly  understood  that  I  discovered 
Miss  Wynkoop." 

Mr.  Allison,  who  was  a  big  man  with  a  big 
voice,  said  polite  things,  and  Nan  felt  very  small 
and  young.     She   heard  names  which  she  had 


56  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

seen  in  art  criticisms,  and  found  that  their  owners 
looked  and  acted  quite  like  ordinary  people. 
They  did  not  wear  long  hair,  nor  did  they  wear 
paint-smeared  blouses,  as  the  artists  did  in  story 
books  of  a  generation  ago. 

As  Kan  sat  on  a  couch  talking  with  a  mild- 
looking  young  woman  who  was  asking  her  if  she 
Were  homesick,  she  heard  a  girl  directly  behind 
her  say,  "Ask  her.  It  can't  do  any  harm  to  ask, 
and  there  isn't  any  hair  like  it  in  New  York,  per- 
haps not  on  this  continent.  If  you  don't  I  will, 
but  you  thought  of  it  first,  so  you  may  have  the 
first  asking." 

Nan  could  not  help  wondering  who  had  this 
wonderful  hair,  and  she  was  looking  around  the 
room,  trying  to  discover  it,  when  a  man  came 
up  to  her,  and  said  abruptly,  "  Will  you  let  me 
paint  your  hair  ?  " 

Nan  felt  her  color  rising,  she  was  so  surprised. 
"  I  don't  know,"  she  stammered. 

"  Please  think  about  it  and  let  me  know.  Re- 
member, I  am  to  have  the  first  chance  if  you  let 
anyone  paint  it." 

He  turned  away  awkwardly,  and  the  girl  who 
had  come  up  behind  him,  explained  to  Nan. 
"  Really,  you  mustn't  mind  Mr,  Parrish's  manner, 
or  the  lack  of  it,  whatever  you  prefer  to  call  it. 
He  always  is  as  abrupt  as  he  was  just  now,  but 
people  don't  mind  him  when  they  know  him. 
He  wants  to  paint  your  hair  and   keep   it, — the 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  57 

painting,  not  the  hair, — for  future  use.  He 
didn't  mean  to  ask  you  to  let  him  paint  your 
portrait.  I  encouraged  him  to  ask  you  about 
your  hair,  but  I  didn't  mean  that  he  should  scare 
you  to  death.  I'll  go  with  you  to  chaperon 
you,  or  get  my  old-maid  sister  to  go,  if  you  pre- 
fer. Or,  if  you  like,  Mr.  Parrish  can  paint  in  my 
studio.  We  are  great  friends,  though  we  fight 
dreadfully  sometimes.  He  is  an  impressionist, 
and  I  could  eat  them.  Mr.  Allison,  that  big 
black-aviced  man,  is  another  impressionist,  though 
he  won't  own  it.  You'll  like  us  very  well  after 
you  get  used  to  us.  Don't  forget  you  are  wel- 
come to  use  my  studio  when  Mr.  Parrish  paints 
you. 

Nan  thanked  her  and  repeated  that  she  would 
think  about  it.  The  girl,  whose  name  Nan  had 
not  caught,  but  whom  she  afterward  knew  as 
Miss  Henshawe,  sat  down  beside  her,  and  began 
to  ply  her  with  questions  which  she  interspersed 
with  compliments.  Nan  was  not  used  to  that 
sort  of  thing,  and  she  changed  the  subject  by 
asking  Miss  Henshwe  with  whom  she  studied. 

"  I  am  not  studying,  I  am  out  for  myself.  I 
am  painting  miniatures  for  dear  life.  They  are 
all  the  rage  now,  and  I  believe  in  making  hay 
while  the  sun  shines.  And  that  brings  me  to  the 
point  I  wanted  to  make.  Will  you  let  me  paint 
your  miniature?"  Nan  gasped.  She  looked 
around   the   room  and  began  to   wonder   if  all 


58  Annice  Wynkoopy  Artist. 

those  people  would  come  and  ask  her  to  sit  for 
them. 

"  I  can't  promise,"  she  said.  "  I  shall  be  very 
busy,  and  I  may  have  no  time  to  spare." 

"  Try  to  find  time ;  you  would  make  such  a 
lovely  miniature." 

Nan  frowned.  "  I  wish  she  would  go,"  she 
thought.  "  I  don't  want  to  be  rude,  but  I  am 
getting  very  tired  of  this." 

"You  don't  like  me  to  tell  you  that  you  are 
very  nice  looking?  I  don't  see  why  you  should 
mind.  It  is  no  credit  to  you.  I  always  tell 
people  if  I  think  they  are  handsome.  I  should 
be  very  glad  if  I  were  good-looking,  to  be  told  of 
it.  Do  you  know,  I  predict  that  we  shall  be 
great  friends.  You  look  surprised.  I  don't  take 
a  fancy  to  one  girl  in  a  hundred,  but  I  liked  you 
at  once.     Where  do  you  study?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  study  at  Cooper.  I  begin 
Monday." 

"Why  not  at  the  League?  I  studied  there, 
and  I  should  like  you  to  study  where  I  did." 

"  I  have  so  little  money  that  I  must  stretch  it 
as  far  as  possible,  so  I  am  very  glad  to  get  into  a 
free  class,"  said  Nan  frankly. 

"  What  do  you  do, — what  is  your  line  ?  " 

"  I  have  done  a  little  of  everything,  so  far,  but 
I  mean  to  make  a  business  of  portraits.  That  is 
all  that  I  really  care  for." 

"  Do  you  know,  1  guessed  that  you  liked  per- 


Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist,  59' 

trait  better  than  anything  else.  We  are  agreed 
on  that.  I  am  so  anxious  to  see  some  of  your 
work..     Where  do  you  live  ?     I  shall  call  on  you." 

Nan  told  her,  and  murmured  that  she  would  be 
glad  to  see  her.  She  had  to  admit  that  Miss 
Henshawe  was  very  pleasant,  and  she  should  be 
glad  of  her  proffered  friendship.  Only  she  wished 
that  she  wouldn't  gush  so. 

**  When  I  began  at  art,"  Miss  Henshawe  was 
saying,  in  a  retrospective  tone,  "  I  did  black  and 
white  work.  I  fancied  that  I  wanted  to  be  an  il- 
lustrator, don't  you  know.  But  I  have  dropped 
that  entirely." 

"  I  have  worked  at  pen  and  ink  a  good  deal,  all 
alone,  though;  I  have  had  no  teaching,"  said  Nan. 
"  I  thought  perhaps  I  would  study  illustrating 
this  year.  I  understand  that  one  can  always  get 
illustrating  to  do.  I  really  have  had  consider- 
able encouragement  about  my  pen  and  ink  work, 
for  I  sent  some  things  to  an  editor,  and  he 
praised  them,  and  advised  me  to  go  on.  Perhaps 
I  would  be  able  to  take  care  of  myself  much 
sooner  if  I  studied  black  and  white  than  if  I 
studied  portraits.     But  I  love  to  paint  faces," 

"  Oh,  stick  to  your  portraits.  It  is  a  pity  you 
have  black  and  white  in  your  head,  for  if  you 
do  much  of  it  you  will  lose  your  eye  for  color. 
That  is  what  many  of  the  illustrators  say,  don't 
they,  Mr.  Danforth?" 

And  Miss  Henshawe  swooped  down  on  a  man 


'6o  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

who  was  passing,  and  drew  him  into  the  conver- 
sation. 

"  Of  course  I  agree  with  you,  Miss  Henshawe. 
I  always  do,  but  I  didn't  catch  your  question." 

"  Don't  you  lose  your  sense  of  color  in  making 
your  marvelous  black  and  white  work  ?  " 

While  they  were  absorbed  in  this  question, 
Nan  took  the  opportunity  to  run  away.  Miss 
Frost  came  over  to  her.  "  How  are  you  enjoying 
my  lions?  Have  you  had  any  tea?  What  a 
shame  !  Clara  Henshawe  has  talked  you  tired, 
and  kept  you  from  getting  any  tea." 

A  young  lady  was  pouring  tea  at  a  table  behind 
some  palms,  and  presently  Mr.  Parrish  brought 
Nan  a  cup,  and  offered  her  thin  bread-and-butter 
and  tiny  cakes.  Miss  Frost  sent  him  for  some 
tea  for  herself,  and  then  graciously  dismissed 
him. 

"  He  always  makes  me  nervous,"  she  explained 
to  Nan.  "  And  I  don't  intend  that  he  shall  bore 
you  with  his  views  on  art  this  afternoon.  Now  I 
want  you  to  meet  that  elderly  lady.  Miss  Knowles  ; 
she  isn't  artistic,  and  that  will  be  a  relief  to  you 
after  Clara  Henshawe." 

Nan  had  a  pleasant  chat  with  Miss  Knowles, 
who  seemed  to  have  no  object  in  life  but  to  be 
agreeable  to  homesick  5^oung  art  students.  Nan 
found  herself  wondering  what  she  "did,"  and 
concluded  that  she  did  nothing.  She  was  quite 
surprised  a  few  moments  later,  to  find  that  she 


Miss  Frost  showed  Nan  her  pictures  and  talked  art  with  all  her  heart.- 
Page  61.  Annice  Wynkoop, 


Annice  Wynkoopy  Artist.  6i 

was  a  newspaper  woman,  and  that  Miss  Frost's 
tea  would  find  its  way  into  the  morning  paper 
with  which  Miss  Knowles  was  connected.  As 
Nan  confessed  later  to  Miss  Frost,  she  had 
always  supposed  that  newspaper  women  wore  un- 
becoming hats,  and  had  the  braid  half  off  their 
skirts.  She  did  not  know  that  Miss  Knowles 
wore  a  Redfern  gown,  but  she  realized  that  she 
was  the  best  dressed  woman  in  the  room. 

All  at  once  a  hush  fell  on  the  room.     Miss 

was  going  to  sing.  Nan  did  not  catch  the  name, 
but  she  guessed  that  the  singer  was  a  lioness. 
She  sang  something  in  Italian,  which  Nan  did 
not  understand  at  all,  but  other  people  seemed 
to,  by  the  way  they  applauded.  Next  she  sang 
a  lullaby,  then  a  couple  of  Scotch  ballads.  Nan 
fully  appreciated  these,  and  she  was  sorry  when 
she  finished. 

Nan  remained  to  dine  with  Miss  Frost,  at  her 
urgent  invitation.  It  was  very  pleasant  for  the 
homesick  girl.  The  appetizing  little  dinner  was 
sent  in  from  a  restaurant,  and  Miss  Frost's  one 
maid  arranged  the  table  in  the  cosy  little  dining- 
room.  Nan  ate  the  first  good  meal  since  she  had 
left  home. 

After  dinner  they  sat  in  the  studio,  and  Miss 
Frost  showed  Nan  her  pictures  and  talked  art 
with  all  her  heart.  There  was  something  about 
this  young  girl  which  aroused  all  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  older  woman.     Nan  felt  her  hopes  rising. 


62  Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist. 

Success  was  worth  working  for,  even  if  one  had 
to  live  with  four  room-mates. 

At  nine  o'clock  she  said  she  must  go,  and  Miss 
Frost  went  with  her.  They  strolled  along,  and 
before  they  realized  it  they  were  at  Madison 
Square. 

*'  Isn't  it  beautiful  ?  "  said  Nan,  "  the  lights,  and 
the  shadows  on  the  leaves.  The  city  is  prettier 
by  night  than  by  day." 

"  I  love  this  town,"  said  Miss  Frost.  "  I  get 
tired  of  my  work,  and  worn  out  with  all  the  din  and 
roar,  and  I  wish  myself  far  away,  in  some  country 
place.  But  I  know  I  should  come  back.  Every 
one  comes  back,  it  is  like  fate  ;  after  one  has  been 
here  a  certain  length  of  time  one  can't  stay  away. 
I  try  to  discourage  people,  especially  women  ;  and 
I  tell  them  not  to  come.  But  they  keep  coming, 
till  the  wonder  is  that  there  are  any  girls  left  in 
the  smaller  towns." 

"  You  didn't  discourage  me,  you  advised  me  to 
come." 

"  I  know  I  did.  There  was  a  look  in  your  eyes 
that  told  me  you  would  starve  if  you  lived  the 
quiet  life  of  your  sisters.  You  may  be  willing  to 
go  back  to  it  after  a  while,  but  I  felt  that  you 
must  taste  the  artist's  life.  You  will  find  it  a  very 
rich  life,  and  you  will  be  happy  despite  hard 
work  and  scanty  means.  Enjoy  your  work,  but 
don't  overdo.  You  won't  gain  anything  by  dis- 
regarding your  health.     I  wish  you  could  find  a 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  63 

better  boarding-place,  but  I  know  your  resources 
are  limited,  and  I  don't  see  what  you  can  do." 

"  I  have  just  two  hundred  and  sixty  dollars," 
said  Nan.  **  It  must  last  a  year.  I  had  three 
hundred,  but  I  had  to  have  a  few  clothes,  and  I 
had  to  pay  my  fare  down  here." 

*'  And  you  bought  clothes  and  paid  your  fare 
with  forty  dollars  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  we  always  make  one  dollar  do  the  work 
of  two.  Emma  Anna  is  a  great  shopper,  and  she 
gets  a  remnant  of  this  and  makes  a  dress,  and  a 
remnant  of  that  to  trim  it  with,  and  of  course  she 
did  all  my  sewing.  But  I  can't  have  any  more 
clothes.  I  must  make  this  money  last  till  I  reach 
home  next  summer.  I  have  figured  it  all  out,  and 
I  see  I  shall  have  to  stay  in  the  C.  H.  But  I  hate 
it,  and  I  know  1  always  shall." 

"  You  won't  mind  it  so  much  after  you  are  used 
to  it,  and  you  may  have  real  good  times  with 
some  of  the  girls.  You  may  be  thankful  that  all 
the  people  in  your  room  are  permanent ;  it  would 
be  a  good  deal  worse  if  they  were  transients,  and 
you  had  new  ones  all  the  time." 

*'  Perhaps  I  can  get  in  a  hall-room  and  have 
only  one  room-mate." 

"  I  shouldn't  do  it  if  I  were  you.  You  have 
more  cubic  space  in  one-fourth  of  a  large  room 
than  you  would  have  in  half  a  hall-room.  Then, 
too,  there  is  the  question  of  heating  the  room. 
You'll  have  to  consider  that  later.     In  the  large 


64  Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist. 

room  you  will  have  heat,  and  you  each  will  pay 
twenty-five  cents  a  week  extra  for  it." 

"  That  will  add  to  my  expense.  One  dollar  a 
month.  I  hadn't  thought  of  paying  extra  for  fire. 
I  supposed  it  went  with  the  room," 

"  My  dear,  in  New  York  nothing  goes  with  any- 
thing. You  simply  must  keep  taking  out  your 
purse  all  the  time.  But  stay  in  the  big  room  ;  a 
hall-room  is  the  abomination  of  desolation." 

"  Miss  Jamieson,  a  girl  who  sits  next  me  at 
table,  says  a  great  many  girls  take  a  small  room 
and  board  themselves." 

"  Let  me  say  don't,  again.  It  is  the  loneliest, 
most  morbid  kind  of  a  life.  You  would  half  starve 
yourself  without  meaning  to,  and  it  is  enough  to 
make  one  crazy  to  live  alone.  It  really  is  health- 
ier to  be  packed  with  three  other  people  as  you 
are  now.  There  are  no  end  of  queer  women  in 
New  York  who  became  so  by  living  alone  and 
getting  their  me-als  on  an  oil  or  a  gas  stove. 
I  don't  dare  be  alone,  and  Miss  Powers  and  I  stay 
together  from  a  missionary  spirit.  I  shall  be  glad 
when  she  comes  back,  for  I  fear  I  shall  soon  begin 
talking  to  myself  if  I  am  alone  much  longer,  or 
adopt  a  dog,  which  would  be  worse." 

They  were  at  Union  Square  by  this  time,  and 
they  stopped  again  to  watch  the  flickering  shadows 
on  the  pavement. 

As  they  walked  on,  Miss  Frost  said,  "  I  am 
glad  you  are  here,  Annice,  and  I  hope  I  have  not 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  65 

frightened  you  by  painting  things  as  they  are.  It 
takes  a  good  stout  heart  to  succeed,  but  the  work 
we  have  chosen,  perhaps  I  should  say  the  work 
that  has  chosen  us,  is  worth  doing  for  the  sake  of 
the  doing,  and  often  times  the  results  are  very 
satisfactory.  Art  is  not  like  the  professions,  which 
are  said  to  be  overcrowded  ;  there  is  a  place  for 
each  one  who  has  a  message  to  give.  And  no  one 
can  do  another's  work. 

"  But  here  we  are,  and  there  is  a  light  in  your 
room.  I  hope  it  isn't  full  of  bugs  and  mosqui- 
toes and  things.  They  really  ought  to  give  you 
window-screens." 

With  which  sudden  transition  from  art  to  prac- 
tical life,  Miss  Frost  shook  hands  and  said  good- 
night. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

It  was  over,  that  first  day  at  the  art  school, 
and  Nan  was  lying  on  her  little  bed,  wondering 
if  she  were  glad  or  sorry  that  she  had  set  out  to 
be  an  artist.  Art  seemed  very  long,  then,  poor 
child,  and  home  very  far  away. 

She  had  gone  to  church  twice  on  Sunday,  as 
was  her  custom.  In  the  morning  Miss  Jamieson 
took  her  to  a  grand  church,  which  Nan  fancied 
looked  like  a  cathedral,  with  vested  choir  and 
stained  glass,  and  a  great  deal  of  ritual.  It  had 
pleased  Nan  from  an  artistic  standpoint,  but  she 
missed  the  plain  little  church  and  the  familiar 
hymns, — Harriet  at  the  organ,  and  Mr.  Bam- 
ford's  bass  in  the  choir.  She  wanted  to  be  there 
and  sit  next  one  of  the  dear  ones, — Charlotte  or 
Emma  Anna,  or,  best  of  all,  her  mother.  She 
had  missed  the  plain  face  in  the  shabby  bonnet, 
and  she  was  thankful  that  she  was  able  to  call  it 
up  to  her  memory.  She  left  the  grand  church, 
feeling  like  one  invited  to  a  banquet,  where  one 
saw  cut-glass  and  fine*  linen,  but  did  not  partake 
of  the  food.  But  she  afterward  learned  to  love 
the  grand  churches,  and  she  soon  felt  at  home  in 
them. 

66 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  6^ 

In  the  afternoon  she  went  alone  to  a  quiet 
little  church  and  joined  in  the  familiar  hymns  with 
a  shaking  voice.  She  felt  more  at  home  than  at 
any  time  since  she  had  left  the  little  brown  house. 
She  would  be  good,  she  said  to  herself,  she  would 
do  right  and  work  hard  and  endure  hardships. 
She  fell  asleep  that  night  under  the  influence  of 
that  mood  and  slept  like  a  child.  In  the  morn- 
ing she  felt  hopeful  and  uplifted,  despite  the  fact 
that  she  had  three  room-mates. 

But  now,  as  she  lay  on  her  bed,  she  was  in  the 
depths.  If  she  had  not  been  too  ashamed  she 
would  have  gone  back  home.  She  told  herself 
that  she  was  foolish  to  think  of  being  an  artist, 
she  with  no  money,  and  perhaps  with  no  talent. 
How  the  big  man  in  the  glasses  had  looked  at 
her  best  work  !  "  It  might  as  well  have  been  a 
patch-work  quilt  as  a  picture,"  she  said  indig- 
nantly. She  laughed  at  the  idea,  and  then  she 
felt  better. 

Just  then  a  bell  in  the  hall  rang  three  times. 
Nan  had  already  learned  that  when  a  maid  rang 
a  bell  three  times  there  was  a  caller  for  some  one 
on  the  third  floor.  This  was  one  of  the  labor- 
saving  inventions  of  the  house.  The  bell  kept 
ringing,  and  as  no  one  else  seemed  to  be  on  that 
floor.  Nan  went  to  the  stair  and  asked  who  was 
wanted. 

**  There's  a  lady  to  see  Miss  Wynkoop.  I've 
nearly  rung  my  hands  off.     I've  got  something 


68  Annice   Wy^ikoop,  Artist. 

to  do  besides  pulling  bells,  and  it  most  dinner 
time." 

"Tell  the  lady  that  I'll  be  down  at  once,"  re- 
plied Nan.  Everyone  in  the  house  seemed  to  be 
afraid  of  Martha,  and  Nan  dared  not  say  any- 
thing if  she  sent  her  caller  away. 

She  supposed  it  was  Miss  Frost,  but  she  found 
Miss  Henshawe  instead.     She  was  examining  the 

o 

placard  which  called  the  attention  of  the  visitors 
to  the  fact  that  the  boarders  were  getting  fed  and 
sheltered  cheaply,  and  that  they  were  to  behave 
themselves.  Miss  Henshawe  seemed  much  inter- 
ested, evidently,  for  she  had  her  lorgnette  up  to 
her  eyes  as  Nan  came  forward. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you  are  in.  I  had  half  a 
mind  to  run  away.  I  was  frightened  at  that  maid 
in  the  hall.  How  do  you  stand  her?  This  must 
be  a  C.  H.  I  have  heard  so  much  about  them. 
But  tell  me  about  yourself.  How  did  you  get 
along  to-day?  I  thought  I  would  call  at  once. 
These  first  days  are  so  hard,  and  I  feared  you 
might  need  cheering  up.  You  haven't  been  cry- 
ing, I  hope.  Your  eyes  look  like  it.  There,  I 
won't  say  any  more.  Minerva  is  always  telling 
me  that  I  have  no  tact.  I  told  her  about  you, 
and  she  suggested  that  you  might  not  want  to 
see  a  caller  so  soon,  that  you  might  be  tired. 
But  I  told  her  that  this  is  just  the  time  when  you 
would  need  cheering." 

"  I  am  glad  you  came,"  said  Nan,  feeling  that 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  69 

that  much  was  expected  of  her.  "  I  didn't  have 
a  very  good  day.  I  very  much  doubt  that  I  shall 
ever  learn  to  paint." 

"  I  know  you  will.  It  is  perfectly  natural  to 
be  discouraged  at  first.  I  am  simply  dying  to 
see  some  of  your  work.  Why  can't  I  go  up  to 
your  room  and  look  at  your  pictures?  I  want  to 
see  your  room,  too.  Do  you  have  a  row  of  little 
beds  like  a  hospital  ?  " 

Nan  could  not  very  well  refuse,  so  she  took  her 
upstairs.  The  other  occupants  of  the  room  had 
not  yet  come  in,  so  Miss  Henshawe  examined 
everything.  The  calendars  and  pictures  of  saints 
caught  her  eye. 

"Who  has  this  corner?  She  must  be  very 
high-church.  And  the  posters.  What  a  mix- 
ture. This  corner  must  belong  to  a  school 
ma'am  ;  look  at  the  teachers'  magazines.  Your 
corner  is  bare.  Do  get  your  pictures,  that's  a 
good  child." 

Nan  took  them  out  of  a  drawer,  explaining 
that  most  of  them  were  in  her  trunk  in  the  base- 
ment. Miss  Henshawe  literally  fell  upon  the 
sketches.  "  Why,  child,  you  are  a  genius.  These 
are  simply  exquisite.  I  thought  there  must  be 
something  about  you  more  than  your  good  looks 
to  make  Jessica  Frost  take  you  up.  She  freezes 
out  most  girls  who  go  to  her.  Where  did  you 
learn  to  paint  like  this  ?  " 

Nan  felt  very  much  embarrassed.     She  did  not 


70  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

like  to  think  that  Miss  Henshawe  was  "  making 
fun  of  her,"  but  she  knew  that  her  pictures  were 
not  wonderful.  When  she  came  to  know  Miss 
Henshawe  better,  she  learned  to  make  allowance 
for  her  enthusiasm. 

"  There  is  no  doubt  about  your  success,"  she 
said,  as  she  put  aside  the  last  sketch.  "  You  simply 
can't  help  succeeding  with  your  gifts.  I  didn't 
dream  that  you  could  do  half  so  well.  You  and 
I  shall  be  great  friends,  I  feel  sure  of  that,  don't 
you  : 

Nan  politely  said  that  she  hoped  so.  Miss 
Henshawe  laughed.  "  You  and  I  are  very  differ- 
ent, perhaps  that  is  the  reason  I  like  you  so 
well.  I  enthuse  about  everything.  Minerva 
calls  it  making  a  fuss.  She  says  I  use  up  all  my  en- 
thusiasm on  ordinary  occasions,  and  have  nothing 
left  if  anything  really  happens.  I  want  you  to 
meet  Minerva.  She  really  is  quite  a  character. 
We  live  together  in  a  kind  of  a  picnic  fashion  in 
a  studio.  I  simply  adore  it,  but  she  is  in  misery. 
She  thinks  no  one  can  live  respectably  unless  one 
has  a  whole  house.  We  have,  that  up  in  Fryeburg, 
Maine,  but  as  we  have  nothing  else  in  the  world 
I  have  to  work  for  my  living.  We  used  to  have 
money,  and  then  Minerva  was  young  and  she  was 
quite  a  belle.  Then  our  father  lost  his  money, 
and  he  and  mother  died,  and  we  had  only  the  old 
house  and  the  garden  full  of  old-fashioned  flowers. 
I  studied   art  a  few  winters  in  Boston,   then   I 


Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist.  71 

moved  to  New  York,  and  dragged  poor  Minerva 
with  me.  Shfe  hated  to  come,  but  she  got  it  into 
her  head  that  it  wasn't  safe  nor  respectable  for 
me  to  be  here  alone." 

"  I  should  think  you  would  be  very  happy  to- 
gether. I  should  dearly  love  to  have  one  of  my 
sisters  with  me,  though  Harriet  is  the  only  one 
who  would  enjoy  it.  The  rest  are  so  set  in  their 
way  they  couldn't  make  any  change." 

"  That  is  just  the  word.  Minerva  is  set  in  her 
way.  She  wants  to  go  on  forever,  doing  the  same 
thing  in  the  same  way,  in  the  same  place,  I 
don't,  I  like  change,  and  I  like  life.  I'd  rather 
live  here  as  we  do  in  those  rooms  and  go  without 
things,  and  see  something  of  life,  than  to  be  the 
richest  person  in  some  small  town.  But  Minerva 
misses  the  flower-garden  and  the  familiar  things 
so,  that  I  sometimes  threaten  to  make  her  go 
back.  I  can  see  her  as  she  used  to  walk  at  dusk 
in  the  flower  garden.  There  were  those  yellow 
evening  primroses  along  the  path,  and  as  her  gown 
brushed  against  them,  their  fragrance  would  come 
in  the  windows.  She  says  she  can  always  smell 
those  primroses  when  she  thinks  of  home.  I 
suppose  I  am  selfish  to  let  her  stay  with  me- 
Do  you  like  to  board  ?  "  Miss  Henshawe  broke 
off  abruptly. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  don't  like  it  here,  but  I  shall 
have  to  be  satisfied.  I  am  glad  to  be  in  New 
York,  even  if  I  am  not  altogether  comfortable." 


72  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

"  I  wish  we  had  room  enough  to  take  you  with 
us.  Perhaps  we  can  take  a  larger  apartment  next 
year.  I  know  I  could  do  my  best  work  if  you 
were  with  me.  You  would  spur  me  on  to  make 
the  best  of  myself." 

Nan  adroitly  drew  Miss  Henshawe  back  to  her 
studio  by  asking  how  long  she  had  been  keeping 
house. 

"  Two  years.  At  first  we  boarded,  but  I  couldn't 
work.  I  felt  cramped,  imprisoned,  and  I  took 
this  studio.  There  is  only  the  one  big  room  and 
two  small  ones.  We  do  everything  in  the  studio, 
but  sleep.  Minerva  is  ashamed  of  the  way  we 
live  when  someone  comes  down  from  Fryeburg- 
She  has  more  pride  than  I  have.  As  I  said,  I 
took  these  rooms  and  moved  in.  We  brought 
some  things  down  from  home,  and  I  picked  up  a 
few  more.  I  began  to  breathe,  and  I  felt  that  I 
could  work.  I  enjoy  it  as  much  as  ever.  I  am 
Alexander  Selkirk  on  a  small  scale.  I  am  '  mon- 
arch of  all  I  survey,  and  my  right  there  is  none  to 
dispute ! ' 

"  Poor  Minerva  was  all  at  sea  at  first,  while  I 
was  so  happy.  She  had  been  used  to  a  range  as 
big  as  a  house,  and  she  couldn't  cook  on  a  gas 
stove.  I  actually  had  to  show  her  how  to  do 
things,  and  she  is  considered  the  best  cook  in 
Fryeburg.  She  is  doing  nicely  now,  though  she 
mourns  for  a  cellar,  and  thinks  it  disgraceful  not 
to  have  a  barrel   of  flour.     She  takes  very  good 


Afinice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  73 

care  of  me,  and  I  hope  I  shew  her  that  I  appre- 
ciate her.  I  know  she  will  like  you.  She  doesn't 
like  all  of  my  friends.  There  is  Basil  Parrish,  for 
instance,  she  can't  endure  him,  but  she  tries  to 
be  very  nice  to  him  because  she  doesn't  want  to. 
Minerva  does  the  thing  she  doesn't  want  to  do ; 
that  is  characteristic  of  her," 

"  Mr.  Parrish  ?  Is  he  the  man  who  looks  so 
tired  of  everything,  and  who  asked  if  he  might 
paint  my  hair?  " 

"Yes;  you  don't  like  him?  He  really  is  a  very 
good  fellow.  I  have  known  him  ever  since  I  be- 
gan to  study  in  Boston.  Minerva  used  to  worry 
because  she  feared  that  we  liked  each  other. 
Fancy  being  sentimental  over  Basil  Parrish  !  Can 
you  imagine  such  a  thing?  " 

Nan  readily  confessed  that  she  could  not,  and 
her  answer  amused  Miss  Henshawe  very  much. 

"  Minerva,  like  most  old-school  people,  can't 
understand  the  free-and-easy  way  we  professional 
people  have.  She  thinks  if  we  call  each  other  by 
our  first  names  and  fight  over  our  pictures  we 
must  be  especially  interested.  Don't  you  think 
that  people  used  to  be  much  more  sentimental 
than  they  are  now  ?  " 

Nan  said  she  didn't  know,  she  had  never  thought 
about  it. 

*'  You  notice,  and  you  will  find  that  I  am  right. 
There  is  something  in  the  air,  I  don't  know  just 
what  it  is,  but  men  and  women  discuss  books  and 


74  Annice   Wynkoop^  Artist. 

art,  but  they  don't  talk  love,  unless  It  is  in  an 
impersonal  way.  Not  that  I  want  any  man  to 
make  love  to  me.  I  am  wedded  to  my  work. 
Aren't  you  wedded  to  yours  ?  I  am  sure  you  are. 
Is  that  the  dinner-bell  ?  I  didn't  realize  that  I 
was  staying  so  long.  Did  you  want  to  dress,  and 
have  I  bothered  you  ?  Oh,  can't  I  stay  to  dinner  ? 
Won't  you  invite  me?  I  should  love  to  stay  and 
see  all  these  women.     It  must  be  great  fun." 

Of  course  Nan  asked  her  to  stay,  and  they  went 
down  into  the  basement.  Miss  Jamieson  saw  that 
Nan  had  company,  and  she  good-naturedly  gave  up 
her  place  at  table. 

Miss  Henshawe  seemed  to  enjoy  herself  quite 
as  much  as  she  expected.  She  found  out  the 
occupations  of  most  of  the  girls  near  her  before 
she  had  finished  her  soup.  Nan  was  in  mortal 
terror  lest  her  questions  would  be  overheard. 

"  Who  is  the  oldish  woman  opposite,  the  one 
who  looks  like  an  old-time  blue-stocking  ?  "  Miss 
Henshawe  demanded. 

Nan  explained  that  she  was  a  theosophist,  and 
added  that  she  was  very  nice  to  her,  in  the 
hope  that  Miss  Henshawe  would  stop  staring  at 
her. 

"  Oh,  yes,  theosophy.  I've  been  all  through 
that  in  Boston.  I  really  had  quite  an  idea  of  it 
at  one  time  while  I  was  studying  art.  I  really 
feel  now  at  times  that  I  must  have  lived  before. 
I  feel  that  I  have  done  the  same  things,  and  said 


Annice  WynkooPy  Artist,  75 

the  same  things,  don't  you  know,  and  yet  T  know 
that  it  is  impossible,  unless  I  did  it  in  some  previous 
existence." 

The  medical  student  who  sat  on  Nan's  left  ex- 
plained that  this  was  caused  by  the  two  hemi- 
spheres of  the  brain  not  acting  exactly  to- 
gether. 

Miss  Henshawe  thanked  her  amiably,  and  turned 
her  attention  to  Miss  Madison,  who  asked  her  if 
she  had  ever  attended  the  meetings  of  the  theo- 
sophical  society  in  New  York.  Miss  Henshawe 
said  she  hadn't.  The  truth  was,  theosophy  was 
too  deep  for  her,  it  made  her  head  ache. 

Nan  thought  it  time  to  turn  the  conversation 
into  other  channels.  She  saw  that  the  Christian 
scientist  was  about  to  tell  Miss  Henshawe  that  she 
couldn't  have  the  headache,  and  that  the  medical 
student  in  her  last  year  was  opening  her  mouth 
to  prescribe  for  the  headache,  which  it  was  her 
business  to  cure. 

So  Nan  asked  Miss  Henshawe  how  long  it  took 
to  paint  a  miniature.  In  a  moment  she  was  dis- 
coursing on  miniature  painting,  and  the  Christian 
scientist  and  the  medical  students  went  on  with 
their  dinner. 

Miss  Henshawe  lingered  after  dinner.  She  and 
Nan  sat  in  the  parlor,  for  Nan  knew  that  her  room- 
mates were  in.  The  girls  who  were  studying  art 
came  in,  and  Nan  introduced  one  or  two  whom 
she  had  met.     They  were  pleased  to  meet  Miss 


y6  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

Henshawe,  and  they  seemed  to  consider  her 
presence  quite  a  compliment  to  the  house.  She 
answered  a  number  of  questions  about  miniature 
painting,  and  good-naturedly  offered  to  give  one 
of  the  girls  a  lesson,  if  she  would  drop  in  some  day 
when  she  had  leisure. 

Presently  Martha  ushered  a  gentleman  into  the 
parlor.  "  Why  Mr.  Parrish,  "  exclaimed  Miss 
Henshawe.     "  How  did  you  come  ?  " 

"  Miss  Minerva  sent  me  after  you.  She  was 
really  worried  when  I  dropped  in  after  dinner. 
She  said  you  had  gone  to  call  on  Miss  Wynkoop 
and  she  couldn't  understand  why  you  had  not  re- 
turned. She  said  it  was  like  you  to  stay  to  dinner, 
but  she  wasn't  sure  that  something  hadn't  hap- 
pened to  you." 

"  Nonsense.  I  believe  you  were  glad  of  an  ex- 
cuse to  come,"  said  Miss  Henshawe.  "  You 
thought  it  would  give  you  an  opportunity  to  call 
on  Miss  Wynkoop.  I  don't  see  why  I  shouldn't 
stay  to  dinner  when  she  asked  me.  I've  had  a 
beautiful  time.  Miss  Wynkoop  and  I  are  the  best 
of  friends,  only  she  paints  so  well  that  I  am  fright- 
fully jealous  of  her.  You  ought  to  see  her  pic- 
tures, Basil." 

"  I'm  simply  dying  to  see  them.  You  won't  be 
so  hard-hearted  as  to  refuse,  I  hope.  Miss  Wyn- 
koop." 

Nan  politely  but  firmly  refused,  and  Mr.  Parrish 
rumpled  his  hair  and  declared  himself  in  the  depths 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist,  jy 

of  despair.  Nan  didn't  like  him,  and  she  took  no 
particular  pains  to  hide  her  feelings. 

Miss  Minerva's  anxiety  did  not  affect  either 
Miss  Henshawe  or  Mr.  Parrish,  for  they  stayed 
till  ten  o'clock.  A  good  share  of  the  time  was 
spent  in  quarreling  over  the  relative  merits  of  their 
studios.  Nan  couldn't  understand  a  man  who 
made  so  much  of  his  china  and  cabinets  and  rugs, 
but  she  concluded  that  Mr.  Parrish  must  be  like 
the  artists  she  had  read  of  in  books.  She  thanked 
him  formally  when  he  told  her  he  was  to  have  a 
studio  tea  shortly,  and  that  he  should  be  most 
happy  if  she  would  come. 

"  The  little  Wynkoop  girl  doesn't  like  Mr.  Par- 
rish," he  said,  as  he  and  Miss  Henshawe  went 
down  the  steps. 

"  No  wonder,"  said  Miss  Henshawe,  taking  his 
arm.  "  She  is  not  blind  nor  stupid,  and  your 
story  about  Minerva's  fright  was  altogether  too 
slimsy  not  to  be  seen  through." 

"  You  are  glad  she  doesn't  like  me.  Perhaps 
you  have  been  setting  her  against  me." 

"  How  ridiculous  you  are.  I  hope  I  have  some- 
thing to  talk  of  besides  you.  You  frightener*. 
her  at  Miss  Frost's  tea,  and  you  are  not  her  style, 
that  is  all.  She  doesn't  try  very  hard  to  hide 
her  dislikes,  and  I  like  her  for  her  frankness.  We 
want  that  car.  It  is  time  we  were  going  home  to 
relieve  poor  Minerva's  anxiety." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Nan's  first  week  at  the  art  school  seemed  very 
long.  When,  at  last,  Friday  afternoon  came,  she 
felt  that  she  had  been  away  from  home  a  month, 
instead  of  a  week.  She  sat  in  the  big  rocking-chair, 
trying  to  write  a  cheerful  letter  home,  when  some 
one  rapped  at  the  door.  Miss  Frost  entered  in  re- 
sponse to  Nan's  "  Come  in." 

She  stooped  and  kissed  Nan,  then  turned  her 
face  to  the  light  to  see  how  she  looked. 

"  I  hope  you  haven't  lost  any  of  the  roses  out 
of  your  cheeks.  No,  not  yet.  I  came  right  up,  I 
thought  you  wouldn't  mind.  Did  you  think  I  had 
deserted  you  because  I  haven't  been  near  you  all 
week?  I  was  called  out  of  town  for  two  days, 
and  since  then  I  have  been  trying  to  catch  up. 
How  have  you  been  this  week,  and  what  do  you 
think  of  Cooper?" 

"  I'm  discouraged.  Miss  Frost,  I  don't  believe 
I  ever  will  know  how  to  paint. 

Miss  Frost  made  an  impatient  gesture.  "  I 
ought  to  know  whether  you  can  or  not.  When 
you  say  you  can't  you  reflect  upon  my  judg- 
ment, and  that  isn't  nice  of  you,  Nan." 

78 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  79 

Nan  laughed.  She  felt  more  hopeful  already. 
Miss  Frost  always  inspired  her, 

"Get  on  your  hat,  I  am  going  to  take  you  home 
with  me  and  keep  you  all  evening.  I  had  to 
come  down  town  to  shop,  and  I  intended  to  call 
for  you,  so  I  didn't  think  it  necessary  to  write 
you." 

"  I'm  glad  to  go,  but  I  must  change  my  dress," 
and  Nan  put  her  writing  materials  away. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  your  even- 
ings this  winter  ?  Don't,  I  beg,  read  books  on 
art.  Don't  do  any  work.  Go  out  to  everything 
that  you  hear  of.  There  will  be  a  lot  of  women 
with  hobbies  in  this  house, — get  acquainted  with 
them,  and  go  out  to  their  meetings,  whether  they 
are  Christian  scientists  or  spiritualists.  They 
will  be  sure  to  ask  you  to  go  with  them,  they  are 
always  after  the  latest  comer." 

"  There  are  all  kinds  of  people  here,"  said  Nan, 
letting  down  a  shower  of  yellow  hair.  "  There 
are  theosophists,  and  vegetarians,  and  Christian 
scientists,  and  woman  suffragists,  and  ethical 
culturists,  and  a  lot  more  who  are  following  some 
ism.  I  looked  at  them  last  night  at  dinner,  and 
thought, 

"  '  Parthians  and  Medes,  and  Elamites,  and  the 
dwellers  in  Mesopotamia,  and  in  Judea,  and  Cap- 
padocia,  in  Pontus  and  Asia.' 

"  There  are  a  lot  more  of  them,  and  I  fear  I 
can't  pronounce  all   the    hard    words,   but   you 


8c  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

know  what  I  mean.  These  women  are  like  them, 
for  they  all  speak  in  their  own  tongues ;  that  is, 
they  talk  of  their  particular  hobby." 

Miss  Frost  laughed.  "  I  can  imagine  them, 
I  think.  I  have  met  most  of  the  types.  New 
York  is  a  regular  stamping  ground  for  people 
with  isms.  They  will  amuse  you  for  a  while,  and 
it  will  be  a  diversion  to  go  out  with  them.  I'll 
risk  their  converting  you.  Some  of  these  women 
are  very  nice,  if  they  are  queer.      Are  you  ready  ? 

"  You  will  meet  my  brother  to-night,  I  hope," 
said  Miss  Frost,  as  she  put  her  latchkey  in  her 
door.  "  He  is  such  an  erratic  individual  that  I 
am  never  sure  of  him.  Yes,  he  is  here  ;  I  smell 
his  cigar.  My  dear  Theodore,  why  didn't  you 
have  the  gas  lighted  ?  The  room  is  as  dark  as 
Egypt.     How  long  have  you  been  here  ?  " 

"An  hour  or  more.  I  knew  you  wouldn't 
let  me  smoke  if  you  were  here,  on  account  of  your 
curtains  ;  and  as  for  the  dark,  I  am  not  afraid 
of  it." 

He  lighted  a  match  as  he  spoke,  and  turned  on 
the  gas. 

"  By  Jove  !  "  he  exclaimed  involuntarily,  as  his 
eyes  fell  on  Nan.  He  did  not  know  that  anyone 
was  with  his  sister,  and  Nan  happened  to  stand 
before  a  dark-red  curtain  which  hung  between  the 
studio  and  an  adjoining  room.  She  certainly  made 
a  striking  picture,  and  Mr.  Frost  was  surprised. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  as  he  acknowl- 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  8i 

edged  his  sister's  introduction.  "  I  didn't  expect 
to  see  any  one,  and  you  surprised  me." 

Miss  Frost  hid  a  smile.  "  Teddy  "  was  such  a 
man  of  the  world  that  she  was  amused  to  see 
how  he  was  impressed  by  her  little  proteg^. 

"  You  have  done  some  very  good  things  since 
I  was  here  last,  Jess.  I  have  been  poking  around 
among  your  canvases.  You'll  really  be  famous 
if  you  keep  on.  The  critics  did  you  proud  about 
your  last  exhibit." 

"  I  would  rather  hear  you  call  my  pictures 
good  than  to  hear  what  the  critics  say,  Teddy," 
and  the  dignified  Miss  Frost  patted  her  brother's 
broad  back. 

Nan  began  to  feel  homesick.  This  being  with 
people  who  had  "  folks  "  was  really  worse  than 
seeing  lorn  women.  But  she  managed  to  swal- 
low the  lump  in  her  throat,  and  a  few  moments 
later  when  they  were  seated  at  dinner  she  found 
herself  enjoying  the  conversation. 

Mr.  Frost  had  lately  returned  from  a  sojourn 
abroad,  and  he  talked  of  everything  which  had 
come  in  his  way.  To  Nan,  with  her  narrow 
horizon,  it  all  seemed  like  a  bit  from  the  Arabian 
Nights.  Now  Mr.  Frost  was  in  a  gondola  at 
Venice,  the  next  moment  he  was  in  a  caf6  at 
Paris,  or  fishing  for  salmon  in  Norway.  He  told 
stories  of  his  student  life  in  the  Latin  Quarter,  of 
building  bridges  in  Arizona,  and  of  shooting  big 
game  in  Manitoba. 


82  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

"What  is  he?"  thought  Nan.  "  Sometimes 
he  talks  like  an  engineer,  and  sometimes  like  an 
artist."  The  question  must  have  been  in  her 
eyes,  for  Miss  Frost  turned  to  her  during  a  mo- 
mentary lull  in  her  brother's  talk,  and  said, 

"Annice,  my  brother  is  a  civil  engineer  by 
profession,  and  an  artist  by  birth.  He  paints 
better  than  I  do,  but  spends  nine  months  of  each 
year  building  bridges  and  railroads,  and  the  re- 
maining three  months  in  Paris  or  Venice,  paint- 
ing pictures.  He  has  just  come  back  from  his 
annual  dissipation,  and  he  goes  very  soon  to 
New  Mexico  to  forget  for  another  nine  months 
that  he  ever  held  a  brush." 

"  We  are  a  very  artistic  family.  Miss  Wynkoop," 
said  Mr.  Frost.  "  That  is  what  people  always  say 
at  this  juncture." 

Nan  did  not  know  what  to  say.  This  man  was 
not  like  any  man  she  had  ever  seen.  She  half 
believed  that  he  was  making  fun  of  her,  that  he 
thought  she  was  only  a  child.  At  any  rate  he 
had  been  startled  out  of  his  self-possession  when 
he  first  saw  her.  "  What  a  goose  you  are.  Nan 
Wynkoop,"  she  thought,  giving  herself  a  mental 
shake.  "  What  difference  does  it  make  what  he 
thinks  of  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Frost  was  far  away  again,  dining  with  an 
Arab  sheik,  acting  as  war  correspondent  during 
the  Chinese-Japanese  war,  or  sketching  Indians 
out  on  the  plains.     Nan  saw  that  she  need  not 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  83 

say  anything,  and  both  she  and  Miss  Frost  were 
well  content  to  listen. 

They  lingered  long  over  their  coffee,  which 
they  had  in  the  studio.  At  last  Mr.  Frost  looked 
at  his  watch.  "  We  ought  to  take  Miss  Wynkoop 
to  hear  something,  Jessica.  What  is  on,  anything 
worth  while  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  so,  Teddy,  and  I  am  quite  sure 
that  Miss  Wynkoop  would  rather  stay  quietly 
here  than  go  out.  She  is  tired,  for  this  has  been 
her  first  week  in  New  York.  She  is  one  of  us, 
Theodore." 

He  nodded.  "  I  guessed  as  much.  You  are 
not  apt  to  have  friends  who  are  not  of  the  same 
mind.  What  do  you  think  of  New  York,  Miss 
Wynkoop  ?  I  beUeve  that  is  the  proper  thing  to 
ask." 

"  It  is  too  soon  to  know,  is  it  not?  Sometimes 
it  seems  very  pretty,  some  parts,  I  mean.  Of 
course  I  haven't  been  about  much." 

"  You'll  have  to  love  it  if  you  wish  to  keep  in 
my  sister's  good  graces.  She  thinks  there  is  no 
town  in  the  world  like  New  York." 

"  If  there  is  I  haven't  seen  it." 

"  Haven't  you  seen  Paris  ?  I  am  homesick  for 
it  already.  When  we  are  rich,  dear  child,  we'll 
go  there  and  stay." 

"  No,  we  won't,  dear  boy.  I  would  rather  have 
ten  years  of  New  York  than  twenty  years  of 
Paris." 


84  Annice   Wynkoop^  Artist. 

"  Miss  Wynkoop  wouldn't.  She  is  going  to 
Paris  to  study  art." 

Nan    flushed.     He     was  making  fiin   of   her. 
"  How  do  you  know?"  she  asked  sturdily. 

"I  see  it  in  your  eyes.  I'll  wager  anything 
you  like  that  you  are  studying  a  French  conver- 
sation book,  and  learning  how  to  say,  *  Will 
you  kindly  direct  me  to  the  Louvre?'  Honest 
now,  own  up." 

"  Don't    tease   her,  Teddy.      You    must    not 
mind  him,  Annice. 

"  Of  course  she  will  go  to  Paris,  but  she  will 
come  back  like  the  good  American  she  is,  and 
have  a  studio  on  Fifty-seventh  Street.  I  dis- 
covered Miss  Wynkoop  myself,  Theodore,  and  I 
expect  to  be  very  well  satisfied  with  my  find." 

"  Where  is  she  studying?  " 

"  At  Cooper.  That  is  very  well  for  the  pres- 
ent, at  least." 

"  What  is  she  going  to  paint  best?" 

"  Portraits." 

"  Is  she  working  for  fun  or  in  dead  earnest?  " 

"She  is  very  much  in  earnest." 

Nan  noticed  that  they  discussed  her  as  if  she 
were  not  present. 

Mr.  Frost  turned  to  her.  "  So  you  are  one  of 
us,  and  I  wish  you  good  speed.  Do  you  know 
what  art  means,  oftentimes?  Are  you  willing  to 
live  in  an  attic  and  go  hungry,  and  wear  old 
clothes  for  art's  sake  ?     Do  you  understand  what 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  85 

Browning  meant  when  he  wrote  those  words 
about. sitting  down  to  write  or  paint  in  poverty, 
with  pity  for  the  rich  ?  " 

Did  she  understand  them  ?  They  were  the 
very  words  she  had  used  to  Harriet  the  day 
when  she  decided  to  go  to  New  York.  Again 
she  had  a  suspicion  that  Mr.  Frost  was  making 
fun  of  her.  She  didn't  want  him  to.  Miss  Frost 
she  thoroughly  understood  and  trusted,  but  she 
had  her  doubts  about  the  engineer-artist.  She 
consoled  herself  by  thinking  that  he  was  con- 
ceited, but  she  admitted  to  herself  the  next  mo- 
ment that  she  didn't  see  how  he  could  help  it. 

They  did  not  go  anywhere,  but  sat  and  talked 
the  evening  through.  Miss  Frost  allowed  her 
brother  to  smoke,  with  total  disregard  for  her 
curtains,  after  Nan  insisted  that  cigar  smoke  was 
not  at  all  disagreeable  to  her. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  she  suddenly  realized 
that  it  was  time  to  go  home.  Mr.  Frost  escorted 
her,  and  nearly  drove  her  to  distraction  by  his 
questions  about  the  Christian  Home.  At  last 
she  gave  him  a  graphic  description  of  the  place 
as  she  saw  it,  and  was  rewarded  by  his  saying  that 
she  ought  to  have  been  a  newspaper  woman. 

"  Come  up  to  dinner  again  when  I  get  back 
from  the  West,"  he  said,  as  he  bade  her  good- 
night. "  Perhaps  by  that  time  you  will  be  able 
to  give  me  more  points  about  boarding-houses." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

It  had  been  a  wet,  foggy,  sticky  day,  and  Nan 
dragged  herself  home  from  the  art  school  and  sat 
down  in  her  corner  of  the  room,  a  little,  wet,  be- 
draggled heap  of  misery.  She  had  received  an  un- 
favorable criticism  on  her  day's  work,  her  head 
ached  and  throbbed,  and  the  weather  had  been 
most  dismal  for  several  days. 

"■  This  is  New  York,"  said  Nan,  kicking  her 
trunk  with  the  toe  of  her  wet  boot.  "  I  wish  I 
had  never  come,  so  there !  I'll  never,  never,  learn 
to  paint,  and  after  coming  down  here  with  flying 
colors,  I  shall  have  to  go  back  and  teach  school- 
I  would  have  a  good  crying  spell  if  fourteen  women 
weren't  likely  to  come  in  at  any  moment.  It's 
hard  lines  when  one  hasn't  a  chance  to  cry  in 
peace." 

The  bell  rang  three  times,  and  Nan  went  into 
the  hall  to  see  who  was  wanted. 

"  A  gentleman  to  see  Miss  Wynkoop,"  the  maid 
called. 

Nan  wondered  who  it  could  be,  and  she  forgot 
to  ask  Martha  the  name.     She  bathed  her  face, 

smoothed  her  hair,  and   ran  down  in  her  neat 
86 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  87 

Scotch  plaid  shirt  waist  and  black  skirt.  She  was 
too  disconsolate  to  care  how  she  looked. 

Mr.  Bamford  sat  near  the  door,  and  he  came 
forward  eagerly  as  Nan  entered. 

"  Why,  what  a  surprise,  I  had  no  idea  of  seeing 
you,"  said  Nan,  saying  the  first  words  which 
came  to  her  lips. 

She  knew  she  was  blushing,  and  she  was  very 
angry  at  herself  for  it,  which  made  her  blush  all 
the  more.  The  truth  is,  that  not  five  minutes 
before  Mr.  Bamford  came  she  had  thought,  "  I 
know  I  might  marry  Mr.  Bamford  if  I  wanted 
to.  Perhaps  I  am  foolish  not  to  think  of  him 
seriously." 

Mr.  Bamford  was  still  holding  her  hand,  and 
looking  into  her  eyes  in  a  way  which  was  unmis- 
takable.    "You    are  not  looking  well,  Annice." 

''Thank  you,"  said  Nan,  making  an  effort  to  be 
flippant.     "  Do  you  call  that  complimentary?" 

But  Mr.  Bamford  paid  no  heed  to  her  remark. 
"You  are  too  pale,  and  you  are  thinner  than 
when  you  left  home.  I  fear  you  are  working  too 
hard,  and  if  this  is  a  specimen  of  New  York  weather 
I  haven't  any  desire  to  be  a  resident." 

"  It  isn't  always  so  bad.  Nor  am  I  such  a  ghost 
as  you  would  make  me  believe." 

Mr.  Bamford  shook  his  head  gravely. 

"Let  us  not  talk  any  more  about  me,  please. 
How  are — they — all  ?  " 

The  last  two  words  were  spoken  rather  brokenly, 


88  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

as  Nan  realized.  She  had  never  been  more  home- 
sick than  she  was  just  then.  As  she  spoke  she 
could  see  the  old  brown  house,  and  its  inmates 
gathered  around  the  supper-table. 

Mr.  Bamford  was  tactful  enough  not  to  notice 
the  break  in  her  voice.  *'  Everybody  is  well,  and 
they  are  as  happy  and  as  contented  as  can  be  ex- 
pected while  their  Nan  is  away.  All  the  family 
sent  their  love  to  you." 

"  Thank  you  very  much.  Now  tell  me  how  you 
happened  to  come  to  New  York." 

Nan  had  her  voice  under  control  now.  She  sat 
erect  and  at  ease,  and  essayed  to  direct  the  con- 
versation into  safe  channels. 

"  I  didn't  happen,  I  just  came  on  purpose,  as  the 
children  say,"  returned  Mr.  Bamford,  with  a  glim- 
mer of  amusement  in  his  eyes.  "  Why  shouldn't 
I  come?     I  wanted  to  see  you,  and  here  I  am." 

"  Oh,"  said  Nan  comprehensively.  She  won- 
dered if  she  should  ask  him  to  dinner.  She  would 
if  she  had  boarded  anywhere  else.  But  how  could 
she  take  a  man  down  to  dinner  among  all  those 
women.  No  ;  she  decided  that  she  couldn't  face 
such  an  ordeal. 

"  Get  your  hat  and  coat,  Annice,  and  come  to 
dinner  with  me,"  Mr.  Bamford  said,  as  if  he  had 
read  her  thoughts. 

Nan  wanted  to  invent  some  excuse.  She  was 
vexed  that  he  had  come,  and  still  more  vexed 
that  he  did  not  pretend  that  he  came  on  business. 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist  89 

"  I  suppose  I  must  be  nice  to  him,"  she  thought, 
as  she  mounted  the  long  stairs. 

She  changed  her  gown,  putting  on  the  dark 
green  one  that  Emma  Anna  had  sent  her  at 
Christmas  time.  Should  she  put  on  the  pale  blue 
silk  front  ?  The  gown  was  so  somber  without 
it.  "  No  ;  I  shan't  make  myself  look  one  bit 
better  than  I  can  help,"  she  said,  with  a  con- 
scious look  in  the  mirror.  "  He  is  silly  enough 
about  me,  without  encouraging  him." 

"Going  out  to  dinner?"  said  Miss  Jennings, 
who  had  just  come  in.  "You  are  to  be  congrat- 
ulated. I  wish  I  were  going.  I  suppose  that  is 
your  young  man  in  the  parlor.  He  is  very  nice 
looking,  but  I  should  be  afraid  he  would  be  very 
masterful.  I  hope  he  won't  be  frightened  by 
such  a  pack  of  women  as  come  in  at  this  time  of 
day." 

"  He  isn't  my  young  man,"  Nan  replied  se- 
verely. "  He  is  a  friend  of  my  family,  and  he 
naturally  called  when  he  came  to  the  city." 

"  Naturally,"  repeated  Miss  Jennings,  in  an 
aggravating  manner. 

Nan  opened  a  box  and  took  out  a  spick-and- 
span  pair  of  gloves.  "  I  want  him  to  think  that  I 
am  rolling  in  wealth,"  she  thought,  "  Perhaps  I 
would  better  put  on  the  blue  silk  front.  I  dare 
say  I  can  manage  him  if  he  becomes  too  enthu- 
siastic." 

"  I  hope  you  are  hungry,"  said  Mr.  Bamford, 


90  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

as  he  seated  himself  opposite  Nan  at  a  table  at 
the  St.  Denis.  "  I  am,  I  assure  you.  What  do 
you  like  ?  " 

"  Anything  and  everything,  but  I  have  no  im- 
agination." 

Nan  had  removed  her  jacket,  and  the  blue  silk 
front  was  very  becoming.  The  damp  air  made 
her  hair  even  more  curly  than  usual.  It  hung  in 
little  rings  around  her  delicate  ears,  and  on  her 
forehead.  Mr.  Bamford,  evidently,  was  well 
pleased  with  his  ex-pupil,  and  Nan  herself  was 
not  displeased.  It  was  much  better  to  be  dressed 
in  her  new  gown,  and  to  be  dining  with  a  nice- 
looking  young  man  than  to  be  eating  boiled 
mutton  and  rice  pudding  with  a  roomful  of  tired 
women.  She  might  as  well  be  as  charming  as 
she  knew  how  to  be,  and  repay  Mr.  Bamford  for 
his  kindness  to  her.  So  she  chatted  in  most 
friendly  fashion,  and  gave  him  an  account  of  all 
she  did  and  saw  from  day  to-day.  But  she  was 
careful  not  to  tell  him  of  her  discouragements. 
She  kept  up  the  appearance  of  being  very  happy, 
very  well  satisfied  with  herself  and  with  art.  She 
managed  to  speak  that  small  word  in  a  manner 
which  suggested  a  very  large  A. 

Mr.  Bamford  listened  to  Nan,  but  he  said  little. 
She  found  herself  wishing  that  he  would  say 
more.  So  long  as  he  was  in  the  restaurant 
he  could  not  talk  about  woman's  sphere,  and 
such  objectionable  topics. 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  91 

Miss  Jennings  had  called  him  nice-looking; 
he  was.  Nan  wondered  that  she  had  never  before 
seen  how  handsome  he  was.  "  He  really  has 
very  fine  eyes,  and  his  smile  is  quite  attractive. 
I  wonder  what  such  a  mouth  indicates."  So 
absorbed  was  Nan  in  her  study  of  him,  that  she 
failed  to  see  the  mischief  in  his  eyes. 

"  Do  you  like  me  any  better  than  you  did  last 
summer,  now  that  you  have  studied  me  ?  " 

The  smile  had  spread  over  his  whole  face  now. 

Nan  started,  she  was  so  surprised,  *'  I  beg  par- 
don," she  stammered,  "  I  was  wondering, — that 
is,  I  was  studying  you,  and  I  forgot  that  you 
were  not  a  model." 

"  I  don't  mind  in  the  least,  I  assure  you.  How 
strange  it  seems  to  be  here  with  you.  We  are 
the  same  people  who  used  to  be  in  Macedonia, 
are  we  not  ?  You  seem  more  grown  up,  and, 
to  tell  the  truth,  I  am  a  little  afraid  of  you, 
Annice." 

Annice.  Nan  noticed  that  Mr.  Bamford  had 
taken  to  using  her  Christian  name.  She  did  not 
like  it,  for  it  suggested  that  he  felt  that  he  had 
come  nearer  to  her.  She  did  not  know  what  to 
do  about  it,  however,  so  she  did  nothing. 

"  I  have  missed  you  wofully,  Annice.  I  dared 
not  let  you  know  that  I  was  coming,  for  I  feared 
you  would  order  me  to  stay  at  home." 

"  It  was  very  foolish  of  you  to  come  unless 
you  had  business.     I  shall  be  at  home  next  sum- 


g2  Anntce   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

mer,  and  my  friends  will  be  able  to  see  me  then, 
instead  of  wasting  their  substance  in  trips  to  New 
York." 

"  That  may  suffice  for  your  friends.  I  am  not 
one." 

Nan  set  her  teeth,  and  waited  a  second  before 
she  replied  :  "  If  you  are  not  my  friend  you 
must  be  my  foe,  and  I  should  be  sorry  to  think 
that  of  my  old  teacher." 

There  was  no  one  within  hearing  distance,  and 
Mr.  Bamford  said,  "  I  am  a  lonely  man,  waiting 
for  the  woman  I  love  to  find  out  that  home  is 
the  best  place  in  the  world  for  a  woman." 

Nan  flushed  angrily.  They  had  finished  din- 
ner, and  she  began  to  struggle  into  her  jacket. 

Mr.  Bamford  took  it  from  her.  "  Let's  start 
right,  so  you  won't  crush  your  sleeves.  I  know 
sleeves  are  not  what  they  were  once,  but  that  is 
a  very  pretty  gown,  and  should  be  handled  with 
care." 

As  they  reached  the  street  Mr.  Bamford  looked 
at  his  watch.  "  It  is  not  eight  yet.  Let's  go 
and  see  something  good.  Or  are  you  tired  of  the 
theater?  " 

"  No,"  said  Nan,  smiling  as  she  thought  of  the 
few  times  she  had  gone  to  see  a  play,  in  company 
with  other  girls,  and  how  they  had  climbed  to 
the  family-circle. 

"  Or  perhaps  you  would  prefer  to  go  to  the 
symphony  concert.     Just  as  you  like,  Annice." 


"Let's  start  right,  so  you  won't  crush  your  sleeves,"  said  Mr.  Bamford  as 
he  took  her  jacket  from  her. — Page  92.  Annice  Wynkoop. 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  93 

•*  I  think  I  prefer  the  concert." 

Music  always  quieted  Nan,  and  she  felt  that 
she  needed  a  quietus.  It  was  better  to  go  out 
with  Mr.  Bamford  than  to  sit  in  the  parlor  and 
hear  him  say  that  he  was  waiting  to  have  her 
make  a  fizzle  of  art. 

They  did  not  sit  in  the  family-circle,  and  the 
music  did  rest  Nan.  She  was  in  quite  a  peace- 
able frame  of  mind  when  they  started  home. 
"  If  he  would  only  leave  town  soon,"  she  said  to 
her  self. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  to-morrow  ?  You 
don't  work  on  Saturday,  do  you  ?  Won't  you 
take  me  up  to  the  Metropolitan  museum,  and 
show  me  how  to  admire  pictures  ?  That  will 
take  the  morning.  Then  we'll  have  luncheon 
and  go  to  Staten  Island  to  see  those  cousins  of 
mine  you  met  last  summer.  They  always  ex- 
pect me  to  go  to  see  them  when  I  come  to  the 
city.  How  does  this  program  suit  you  ?  I  must 
leave  on  the  six  o'clock  train  ;  I  shall  stop  over 
Sunday  with  my  brother,  and  reach  home  bright 
and  early  Monday  morning.  I  wish  you  were 
going  to  be  there  in  my  classes,  Annice." 

"  I  don't.  I  would  much  rather  be  here.  I'll 
take  you  to  the  Metropolitan  to-morrow.  I  go 
once  every  week,  and  I  haven't  been  there  at  all 
this  week.  It  will  be  great  sport  to  make  you 
admire  the  pictures  you  should  admire." 

"  I   suppose   I  am  a  regular  Philistine.     That 


94  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

is  the  proper  word  to  use,  is  it  not  ?  How  early 
may  I  call  for  you  to-morrow  morning? 

"  As  soon  as  you  like.  We  would  better  go 
early,  for  it  takes  a  long  time  to  see  even  a  few 
pictures." 

As  Nan  spoke  they  went  up  to  the  steps  of  the 
boarding-house.  The  inmates  did  not  carry 
latch-keys,  but  if  they  expected  to  be  out  late 
they  usually  explained  to  the  matron,  and  were 
given  a  latch-key.  Nan  had  not  provided  her- 
self with  a  key,  for  she  had  not  expected  to  be 
late.  Mr.  Bamford  rang  the  bell  again  and  again, 
but  no  one  responded. 

"  What  a  shame  to  keep  you  waiting  here  so 
long.  It  is  very  chilly,  I  fear  you  will  take  cold." 
And  Mr.  Bamford  gave  the  bell  a  furious  pull. 

The  light  from  the  other  side  of  the  street  fell 
upon  Nan's  face.  "  You  are  thin,  Annice.  It 
pains  me  to  see  that  tired  look  in  your  eyes." 

Nan  turned  away.  "  Don't,"  she  said,  "  I  am 
well  and  happy.  I  don't  need  any  pity.  There 
comes  some  one  to  open  the  door.  I  am  so  glad. 
Good-night,  Mr.  Bamford,  I  have  had  a  very 
pleasant  evening." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

As  Nan  feared,  the  tour  of  the  museum  was  not 
a  complete  success.  Mr.  Bamford  evinced  a  de- 
cided disregard  for  art ;  he  preferred  to  sit  down 
and  talk  with  one  of  its  followers.  In  vain  Nan 
took  him  from  room  to  room,  and  she  was  fully 
aware  that  he  looked  at  her  instead  of  the  pict- 
ures. 

"  Ah,  Miss  Wynkoop,  good-morning.  I  thought 
I  should  find  you  here." 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Parrish.  Mr.  Bamford, 
let  me  make  you  acquainted  with  Mr.  Parrish. 
Mr.  Bamford  is  an  old  teacher  of  mine,  Mr.  Parrish, 
and—" 

"  Ah,  you  are  to  be  congratulated  on  starting 
Miss  Wynkoop  on  the  path  of  art,  which  she  is 
destined  to  tread  with  such — " 

Nan  laughed.  "  You  need  not  take  the  trouble 
to  fill  out  the  sentence,  Mr.  Parrish.  Mr.  Bamford 
has  nothing  to  do  with  my  art  studies.  He  doesn't 
care  for  art  at  all  ;  he  is  a  regular  Philistine,  as  he 
called  himself  just  now.  He  is  devoted  to  mathe- 
matics and  such  disagreeable  things.  I  have  taken 
real  delight  in  making  you  look  at  pictures,  Mr. 

95 


96  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist, 

Bamford,  and  I  fancy  I  have  paid  you  back  for 
some  of  the  unhappy  hours  you  gave  me  over 
my  mathematics." 

"  You  were  a  very  fair  mathematician,  Annice," 
said  Mr.  Bamford,  stifHy. 

He  teach  her  art !  He  grew  rigid  at  the  very 
idea.  He  did  not  approve  of  this  young  man,  and 
he  took  particular  pains  to  call  Nan  by  her  Chris- 
tian name.  He  did  not  thank  her  for  calling  him 
her  old  teacher.  He  was  glad  he  was  older  than 
that  airy  young  fellow  who  seemed  on  such  very 
good  terms  with  Nan.  What  was  that  they  were 
saying  about  a  miniature? 

"  How  is  the  miniature  coming  on  ?  It  is 
done.  Miss  Henshawe  wrote  me.  I  haven't  seen 
it  lately." 

"  Miss  Henshawe  is  very  conceited  about  that 
piece  of  work.  I  told  her  it  was  no  credit  to  her. 
She  could  thank  you  for  giving  her  such  an  inspir- 
ing subject." 

"  What  is  this,  Annice  ?  Have  you  had  your 
miniature  painted  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Bamford. 

Nan  noticed,  with  much  amusement,  that  he  had 
resumed  his  "  teachery  "  manner. 

"  One  of  my  friends  wanted  to  paint  me,  and  I 
consented,  because  I  couldn't  get  out  of  her 
clutches." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  it." 

"  Why  don't  we  all  go  and  see  it  ?  "  Mr.  Parrish 
suggested.    "  If  Miss  Henshawe  isn't  in  her  sister 


Ajinice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  97 

will  be,  and  she  will  let  us  poke  around  the  studio 
as  much  as  we  like." 

To  Nan's  surprise,  Mr.  Bamford  said  he  would 
like  to  go,  and  the  three  walked  down  to  Miss 
Henshawe's  studio  in  Fifty-seventh  Street. 

"  Come  in,"  said  a  voice,  in  response  to  Mr. 
Parrish's  rap,  and  the  owner  of  the  voice  came  to 
meet  them.  She  seemed  quite  abashed  when  she 
saw  the  stranger,  and  apologized  for  her  dusting- 
cap,  which  she  had  forgotten  to  remove. 

"  Never  mind  the  dusting-cap.  Miss  Minerva. 
We  know  it  is  early  to  make  calls.  Is  Miss  Hen- 
shawe  in?  " 

Miss  Minerva  Henshawe,  by  the  way,  was  fully 
fifteen  years  older  than  her  sister,  but  she  never 
claimed  her  prerogatives  in  name  or  otherwise. 

"  Yes,  Clara  is  in.  She  is  behind  the  screen, 
making  chocolate  for  luncheon.  You  are  just  in 
time  to  take  pot-luck  with  us." 

"  We  were  hoping  we  would  be,"  said  Mr.  Par- 
rish  shamelessly.  "  The  chocolate  smells  awfully 
good." 

Miss  Henshawe  came  from  behind  the  screen, 
and  greeted  her  guests  with  her  usual  en- 
thusiasm. 

"You  shall  see  the  miniature  after  we  have  had 
our  chocolate,"  she  said.  "  There  isn't  much  else. 
If  I  had  cheese  I  would  make  a  Welsh  rabbit. 
Mr.  Parrish,  you  shall  make  the  salad  dressing, 
and,  Nan  dear,  you  may  cut  the  bread.  You  al- 
7 


98  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

ways  cut  it  so  thin,  like  the  good  little  house- 
wife that  you  are." 

Mr.  Bamford  was  much  edified  to  see  Nan  cut- 
ting bread.  Miss  Minerva  tied  a  white  apron 
around  her,  and  allowed  her  to  assist  in  setting 
the  table.  From  the  point  of  vantage  where  Mr. 
Bamford  sat,  he  could  see  behind  the  screen, 
where  the  operations  went  on. 

"Come,  Mr.  Bamford,"  said  Miss  Henshawe, 
hospitably.  "  Is  the  salad  ready,  Mr.  Parrish  ? 
Then  let's  sit  by,  as  they  say  up  in  the  country. 
This  is  Bohemia,  Mr.  Bamford  ;  I  hope  you  won't 
be  shocked." 

But  that  gentleman  seemed  to  be  enjoying  his 
luncheon  very  much,  to  Nan's  great  surprise. 
He  put  aside  his  teachery  manner  when  he  talked 
with  his  hostess,  but  he  assumed  it  instantly  if 
called  upon  to  reply  directly  to  any  of  Mr.  Par- 
rish's  remarks. 

That  gentleman  partook  largely  of  the  salad 
which  he  had  dressed,  discoursing  meantime  upon 
art  matters.  As  he  never  made  a  statement  which 
Miss  Henshawe  did  not  contradict,  naturally  the 
conversation  was  lively. 

**Is  there  anything  else?  If  there  is  I  will 
change  the  plates,"  he  said  obligingly. 

'*  There  are  some  preserves  left,  are  there  not, 
Minerva?"  asked  Miss  Henshawe. 

"  Yes ;  I'll  get  them.  I  allow  no  one  in  my 
preserve  jar." 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  99 

She  came  back  presently  with  a  plate  of  pound 
cake,  and  some  rich  quince  preserves. 

**  What  a  dessert  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Parrish, 
appreciatively,  as  he  deftly  changed  the  plates. 
"  I  shall  be  good-natured  for  a  whole  week,  Miss 
Minerva.  Every  summer,  Miss  Wynkoop,  Miss 
Minerva  goes  up  into  the  country,  no  one  knows 
just  where,  and  holds  a  kind  of  Elusinian  mystery 
in  somebody's  orchard.  In  the  fall  she  comes 
back  with  preserves  like  these.  Do  you  make 
enough  pound  cake  in  the  summer  to  last  all  year, 
Miss  Minerva?" 

"  No ;  this  cake  was  made  in  my  cousin's 
kitchen  in  Harlem  this  week.  I  can't  bake  cake 
here,"  said  Miss  Minerva,  with  regret  in  her 
voice. 

"  Minerva  is  heartbroken  because  her  dinners 
come  in  from  restaurants,  and  because  her  break- 
fasts and  luncheons  are  cooked  in  a  chafing-dish  or 
on  a  gas  stove.  I  believe  she  sighs  for  a  big 
range  so  she  can  cook  '  biled  dish  *  and  bake  In- 
dian pudding." 

"  We  never  had  '  biled  dish '  at  home,  Clara. 
I  would  like  a  sizable  range,  though.  I  can't 
seem  to  get  used  to  cooking  on  a  gas  stove." 

"  Now  for  the  miniature,"  cried  Mr.  Parrish, 
when  the  pound  cake  had  been  eaten.  "When 
we  have  seen  it  and  admired  it,  we  will  wash  the 
dishes." 

Miss  Henshawe  led  the  way  back  to  the  studio 


100  Annice   Wynkoop^  Artist. 

part  of  the  big  room.     "  If  you  don't  call  it  good 
I  shall  never  be  able  to  hold  up  my  head  again." 

Mr.  Parrish  seized  the  miniature,  held  it  above 
his  head,  and  dropped  on  his  knees  in  a  dramatic 
fashion. 

Nan  looked  at  Mr.  Bamford.  He  was  actually 
glowering  at  the  artist. 

"  It's  simply  immense,  Miss  Henshawe.  It  is 
worthy  of  its  subject ;  I  can  say  no  more." 

Miss  Henshawe  took  the  miniature  from  Mr. 
Parrish  and  gave  it  to  Mr.  Bamford.  He  looked 
at  it,  as  Miss  Henshawe  afterward  said  to  her 
sister,  as  if  he  were  saying  his  prayers  to  it. 

He  made  no  comment,  however,  except  to  say 
that  it  was  very  like  the  original,  and  handed  it 
to  Nan. 

"  Such  a  fuss  about  a  miniature,"  said  that 
young  woman,  energetically.  "  I  don't  think 
much  of  it,  Clara  Henshawe,  and  I  don't  intend 
to  help  spoil  you.  Now  let's  all  go  and  wash  the 
dishes.  Oh,  Mr.  Bamford,  pardon  me  ;  I  forgot 
that  we  are  going  to  Staten  Island.  But  I  am 
coming  up  soon,  Miss  Minerva,  to  have  a  good 
old-fashioned  visit  with  you,  when  Clara  is 
out." 

Nan  kissed  Miss  Minerva,  and  shook  hands 
with  Miss  Henshawe  and  Mr.  Parrish.  Mean- 
time, Mr.  Bamford  was  taking  a  last  look  at  the 
miniature. 

The  visit  to  Staten  Island  was  anything  but 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist,  lOi 

pleasant  to  Nan.  Mr.  Bamford's  relatives  seemed 
to  have  an  impression  that  there  was  a  great  deal 
between  him  and  Nan,  and  they  took  sundry 
ways  of  making  it  known  to  her.  Nan  was  more 
than  annoyed  ;  she  was  angry.  She  had  met 
Mr.  Bamford's  young  lady  cousins  the  summer 
before,  and  she  had  "  asked  them  to  tea," — so  it 
was  perfectly  natural  that  she  should  call  on  them. 
They  asked  her  very  pointedly  if  she  expected  to 
study  art  next  year.  Nan  knew  that  she  couldn't 
unless  something  entirely  unforeseen  occurred, 
but  she  promptly  answered,  "  Oh,  certainly.  It 
will  take  years  of  hard  study  to  prepare  me  for 
my  life  work."  That  will  impress  them,  she  added 
to  herself. 

It  seemed  to,  for  nothing  more  was  said  about 
her  plans  for  the  future.  Nan  and  Mr.  Bamford 
were  most  cordially  asked  "  to  stay  to  tea,"  but 
he  had  his  train  to  make,  so  they  left  early. 

Nan  went  with  Mr.  Bamford  to  the  station  at 
his  earnest  request.  "  What  shall  I  tell  your 
people  ?  "  he  asked  as  he  bade  her  good-by. 

"Tell  them  that  I  am  busy  and  happy,"  said 
Nan  bravely.  "  And,  Mr.  Bamford,  please  don't 
tell  them  that  I  am  not  looking  well.  I  don't 
want  them  to  worry  about  me." 

"All  aboard,"  shouted  the  official  in  stentorian 
tones. 

Mr.  Bamford  took  both  Nan's  hands.  "  I'll  say 
nothing  that  you  don't  want  me  to  say,  little  Nan, 


102  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

for  my  desire,  my  only  desire,  is  to  stand  well  in 
your  sight." 

"  I  don't  care  for  him,  and  I  don't  believe  I 
ever  can,"  Nan  thought  as  she  waited  for  a  down- 
town car.  "  Still,  if  he  keeps  on  in  this  way  he 
may  make  me  feel  so  sorry  for  him  that — 

"  But  I  won't,"  she  broke  off  suddenly.  "  I  shall 
never  marry  any  man  unless  I  love  him  better 
than  I  love  pictures,  and  that  will  be  loving  him 
very  much  indeed." 

So  absorbed  was  she  that  she  did  not  look  up 
when  Miss  Henshawe  came  in  and  took  a  seat 
next  her. 

"  So  art  is  second  with  you,  after   all,"   said 
Miss  Henshawe. 

Nan  jumped.  "Oh,  it  is  you!  How  you  startled 
me.     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Mean  ?  That  Bamford  man  is  head-over-ears 
in  love  with  you.  It  is  beautiful  to  see  a  man 
so  absorbed  in  some  one  besides  himself." 

"  I  don't  see  anything  beautiful  about  it,"  said 
Nan  crossly,  "  and  there  isn't  any  '  it.'  He  is  an 
old  teacher  of  mine,  and  he  very  naturally  called 
on  me  when  he  came  to  New  York." 

Miss  Henshawe  laughed.  "And  he  very  nat- 
urally is  jealous  of  Mr.  Parrish,  and  he  very  nat- 
urally wants  to  buy  my  miniature  of  you." 

Nan  jumped  again.     "  How  do  you  know?" 
"  Because  while  you  were  saying  good-by  to 
Minerva  he  asked  me  to  sell  it  to  him." 


Annie e   Wynkoop,  Artist.  103 

"  If  you  ever  do — " 

"  I  didn't.  You  needn't  get  so  excited.  I  in- 
tend to  keep  it  to  exhibit.  That  is  what  I  did 
it  for.  He  is  very  nice-looking,  and  I  am  not  so 
sure  that  you  wouldn't  do  well  to  marry  him." 

"  I  shan't.  I'll  paint  all  my  life  if  I  starve  to 
death  doing  it." 

"  I  said  that  once,  but  it  has  occurred  to  me 
several  times  since  that  I  was  a  fool.  After  all, 
life  is  more  than  art.  That  is  a  well-rounded 
sentence,  and  I'll  leave  it  with  you  to  muse  over. 
I  get  out  here.  I  am  going  to  dine  with  a  happy 
woman.  I'll  tell  you  about  her  some  day. 
Adieu  !  " 

When  Nan  went  to  her  room  after  dinner  it 
seemed  full  of  women.  All  the  room-mates  were  at 
home,  and  two  other  girls  dropped  in  to  chat  a 
while.  Nan  made  it  evident  that  she  wished 
to  be  left  alone,  and  she  spent  the  whole  evening 
over  "  A  Painter's  Camp"  which  she  held  upside 
down. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Nan  had  become  quite  friendly  with  a  Miss 
Madison  who  sat  opposite  her  at  the  table.  Miss 
Madison  was  a  middle-aged  woman  who  "  wrote 
for  the  papers,"  and  always  spoke  of  herself  as  a 
"  literary  woman."  "  She  looks  like  an  old-time 
blue-stocking,"  Miss  Henshawe  remarked,  the 
first  time  she  saw  her,  and  Nan  thought  that  the 
sentence  described   Miss  Madison  perfectly. 

Miss  Madison  and  Nan  chatted  a  great  deal, 
especially  at  luncheon,  when  they  came  in  later 
than  some  of  the  other  boarders.  Nan  was  al- 
ways glad  when  Miss  Madison  was  there,  for  then 
she  did  not  so  much  notice  the  conversation  of 
the  medical  students  about  their  "  subjects." 
Miss  Madison  had  only  one  room-mate,  and  she 
was  out  nearly  every  evening,  so  Nan  often  spent 
an  evening  with  her. 

Miss  Madison  was  a  theosophist,  and  she  at 
once  began  to  try  to  convert  Nan  to  her  faith. 
She  often  invited  the  girl  to  attend  the  theo- 
sophical  meetings  with  her,  and  Nan,  who  had 
begun  to  have  a  keen  relish  for  all  kinds  of  New 
York  life,  said  that  she  would  be  glad  to  go. 

The  first  thing  which  struck  Nan's  eyes  when 
104 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  105 

they  entered  the  room  where  the  meeting  was  to 
be  held  was  a  large  portrait  of  Madam  Blavatsky. 
The  picture  had  a  queer  attraction  for  Nan,  for 
the  eyes  seemed  to  move. 

Miss  Madison  excused  herself  a  moment,  and 
went  to  speak  to  some  acquaintances.  Nan  im- 
proved the  opportunity  to  look  about  and  see 
how  the  people  looked.  She  wished  she  could 
sketch  them  ;  they  belonged  to  a  new  type. 

Miss  Madison  came  back  presently,  and  the 
"  meeting  went  in."  The  leader  read  a  few  selec- 
tions from  the  Book  of  Silence.  Next  a  man  went 
to  the  platform  and  read  a  paper  on  something 
which  pretended  to  explain  something  about  the 
symbolism  of  the  Greek  Cross.  Nan  could  not 
understand  it  at  all.  As  Grandma  Wynkoop 
would  have  said,  she  could  not  "  make  head  or 
tail  of  it."  Miss  Madison  sat  with  a  rapt  ex- 
pression on  her  face,  and  Nan  wondered  if  the 
fault  were  hers,  if  she  were  stupid.  She  tried  to 
catch  a  sentence  occasionally  and  remember  it. 
But  by  the  time  she  had  learned  it  another  would 
strike  her  as  being  more  ridiculous,  and  she  would 
try  to  remember  that.  At  last  she  came  away 
with  nothing  but  a  reference  to  "  the  sound  of  the 
soundless  sound."  These  words  were  uttered  in 
a  most  impressive  manner.  Nan  gathered  also 
that  the  present  time  was  a  most  momentous 
period,  and  that,  as  the  end  of  the  century  drew 
nearer,  strange  happenings  might  be  expected. 


io6  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

Madam  Blavatsky,  or  H.  P.  B.  as  the  speaker 
called  her,  was  even  now  sending  messages  to  the 
faithful,  who  were  exhorted  to  keep  their  loins 
girt. 

Nan  several  times  stifled  a  wild  desire  to  laugh. 
As  she  told  Miss  Jamieson  afterward,  she  could 
have  stood  it  better  if  she  could  have  poked  some- 
body at  the  funny  places.  She  could  not  poke 
Miss  Madison,  for  obvious  reasons. 

After  the  paper  was  finished  several  men  and 
one  woman  discussed  it,  but  Nan  did  not  get  any 
light. 

As  they  reached  the  street,  Miss  Madison  asked, 
"  Did  you  enjoy  it  ?  You  must  know  something 
about  theosophy  to  enjoy  such  a  meeting.  It 
was  an  unusually  fine  one.  As  you  go  deeper  into 
theosoph}'^  you  will  see  light  breaking  in  on  you 
every  step  of  the  way." 

"  And  hear  the  sound  of  the  soundless  sound, 
I  suppose,"  thought  Nan.  "  I  enjoyed  it,"  she 
said  aloud,  "  and  how  I  did  want  to  sketch  some 
of  the  faithful,"  she  added  to  herself. 

"Come  up  to  my  room,  and  I  will  give  you 
some  theosophical  literature,"  said  Miss  Madison, 
as  they  went  into  the  house. 

Miss  Madison  always  kept  a  photograph  of 
Madam  Blavatsky  on  her  mantel.  Nan  stood 
before  it.  The  eyes  had  the  same  peculiarity  as 
those  in  the  portrait  in  the  hall,  they  followed 
one  around  the  room. 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist,  107 

"  That  portrait  of  the  great  adept  presents  her 
in  one  of  her  most  gentle  and  sympathetic  moods," 
said  Miss  Madison,  looking  over  her  book- 
shelves. 

"  How  long  ago  did  she  die  ? "  Nan  asked, 
thinking  she  ought  to  say  something. 

"  She  departed  from  her  physical  body  in  1891," 
replied  Miss  Madison  impressively. 

"  Oh !  "  said  Nan. 

"  It  was  the  greatest  crisis  we  have  ever  been 
through,  but  we  have  weathered  it.  In  fact,  there 
have  been  new  life  and  energy  since  her  departure. 
No  doubt  that  it  was  best  for  theosophy  that  she 
went.  She  had  made  all  her  preparations  ;  she 
knew  that  she  must  soon  depart  from  her  physical 
body.  No  doubt  she  is  using  in  other,  higher 
ways,  the  power  which  she  formerly  expended 
in  maintaining  her  body.  She  is,  no  doubt,  train- 
ing a  new  instrument.  As  Mr.  Christianson  said, 
we  may  expect  wonderful  revelations  soon.  I 
wish  you  would  go  with  me  to  the  next  meeting. 
I  don't  know  just  what  the  subject  of  the  paper 
will  be,  but  it  will  be  an  application  of  the  philos- 
ophy of  the  transient  to  the  elucidation  of  the 
changeless.  It  will  be  very  helpful,  and  I  should 
like  you  to  hear  it. 

"  Now  you  need  a  course  of  reading,  and  I  will 
give  you  a  brief  one.  Read  '  Theosphy  simply 
Put,'  '  The  Ocean  of  Theosophy,'  '  the  Key  to 
Theosophy,'    '  Septenary  Man,'   *  Isis  Unveiled,' 


io8  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

and  the  *  Light  on  the  Path.*  The  last  is  a 
helpful  devotional  book.  I  haven't  all  the  books 
I  mentioned,  but  I  will  give  you  three,  and  I 
will  get  the  others  for  you." 

As  Nan  came  down  the  stairs  Miss  Jamieson 
met  her.     "  Did  you  go?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes.  Look  at  all  this  literature — I  had  to 
take  it,  or  break  Miss  Madison's  heart.  I  can't 
see  how  such  a  level-headed  woman  as  she  seems 
to  be  can  believe  in  this  sort  of  thing." 

"  Nor  I,"  assented  Miss  Jamieson.  "  She  is 
probably  delighted  that  you  went  with  her.  She 
used  to  invite  me,  but  I  never  went,  and  I  think 
I  offended  her." 

**  She  talks  as  if  I  wanted  to  believe  it,  and 
loads  me  down  with  literature.  I  think  a  good 
course  in  theosophy  would  drive  me  crazy.  My 
head  is  full  of  a  jumble  of  Karma,  the  Microcosm 
of  the  Macrocosm,  the  Upanishads,  and  a  lot 
more  words  I  can't  pronounce.  I  don't  see  why 
these  people  in  this  house  always  insist  on  tak- 
ing me  to  their  *  doings.'  Miss  Christian  Scientist 
— I  forget  her  name, — asks  me  every  few  days  to 
go  to  her  church  with  her." 

"  Oh,  they  know  that  you  have  only  lately 
come  to  the  city.  They  think  that  you  are  im- 
pressionable, and  that  you  will  make  an  easy 
convert.  We  have  a  spiritualist  here  too.  She 
is  a  new-comer,  though." 

"  I  shan't  go  to  her  meetings,  no  matter  how 


Annice  Wyfikoop,  Artist.  109 

much  she  asks  me.  That  much  is  sure.  But  the 
Christian  Science  woman  is  so  sweet  and  so  sure 
that  she  never  can  get  ill  and  die,  that  she  inter- 
ests me.  She  talks  to  me  every  chance  she  has. 
She  says  she  is  thinking  good  thoughts  about  me 
all  the  time,  and  I  can't  be  ill  or  sad.  Thoughts 
are  things,  you  know.  She  says  she  was  very 
seriously  ill,  and  that  '  the  science '  cured  her  all 
at  once." 

"  Humph  !  I  should  likf  to  ask  her  what  she 
had.  Perhaps  people  are  cured  of  nervous  dis- 
eases, that  is,  diseases  which  they  think  they 
have.  Miss  Watson  says  she  would  never,  under 
any  circumstances,  have  a  physician,  and  lots  of 
them  would  rather  die  than  have  a  doctor.  It  is 
great  fun  to  hear  Miss  Watson  and  the  medical 
students  argue.  If  she  is  right  there  would  be 
no  need  of  any  of  them,  would  there?  I  asked 
Miss  Watson  once  if  she  didn't  expect  that  some- 
thing would  have  to  happen  to  her  to  take  her 
out  of  the  world." 

"  What  did  she  say  ?  " 

"  Oh,  something  to  the  effect  that  if  faith  were 
perfect  enough  there  would  be  no  death.  I  sug- 
gested that  the  world  might  be  uncomfortably 
full  after  a  while,  if  every  body  kept  alive,  but 
she  went  on  eating  Charlotte  russe,  with  that 
calm,  sweet  expression  on  her  face,  and  I  almost 
wished  I  had  a  hobby  if  it  would  make  me  so 
happy. 


no  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist, 

*'  But  there  is  no  danger  for  me  ;  I  have  seen 
too  many  hobbies  mounted  to  want  one  long. 
But  you  would  better  be  careful,  or  some  of  these 
people  will  pick  you  up  and  set  you  on  their 
steeds  and  gallop  away  with  you." 

"  I  wish  they  would  leave  me  alone.  There  is 
Miss  Jordan,  the  vegetarian  woman.  She  actu- 
ally drives  me  wild.  Why  doesn't  she  stay  in  her 
room  and  eat  apples  and  potatoes,  instead  of 
coming  to  the  table  and  telling  us  all  sorts  of 
things  about  our  roast  beef.  Then  there  is  the 
widow,  Mrs.  McPherson,  she  wants  me  to  drink 
hot  water  instead  of  coffee." 

"Yes,  I  know  them  all.  I'm  sorry  for  you,  for 
I  have  been  through  all  you  are  going  through, 
except  the  theosophy.  That  I  refused,  point 
blank." 

"  People  are  always  asking  me  to  take  flats 
with  them,"  Nan  went  on.  "  I've  had  three 
offers  from  women  in  this  house,  and  three  girls 
at  the  art  school  have  asked  me  to  take  a  studio 
with  them  next  year." 

"  Don't  go  with  any  of  them.  You  are  much 
too  young  for  that  sort  of  thing.  Girls  are  al- 
ways getting  the  studio  mania.  They  think  if 
they  have  a  low  couch  covered  with  a  Bagdad 
rug,  some  Japanese  screens,  an  old  copper  tea- 
kettle, and  some  pieces  of  pottery,  the  stuff  will 
make  artists  of  them.  As  for  flats,  every  self- 
supporting  female  in  New  York  has  had  one  or 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  Ill 

means  to  have  one.  Every  now  and  then  a  girl 
disappears,  and  it  is  always  safe  to  say  that  she 
has  taken  a  flat.  She  is  sure  to  come  back,  a 
sadder,  if  not  a  wiser,  woman.  So  don't  let  any 
one  talk  you  into  a  studio  or  a  flat  scheme.  You 
would  much  better  have  your  time  free  than  to 
be  cooking  and  marketing.  It  is  all  very  well  to 
have  an  apartment  if  you  have  some  one  to  keep 
house  for  you,  as  Miss  Henshawe's  sister  does 
for  her.  You  see  I  am  afraid  that  somebody 
is  going  to  have  too  much  influence  over  you." 

"  You  needn't  worry ;  I  have  a  will  of  my  own, 
as  you  may  find  out  some  day.  If  I  do  fly  off 
at  a  tangent  it  won't  be  a  theosopical  one,  I  assure 
you.  I  really  wish  you  would  go  next  time.  It 
is  great  fun." 

"  I  won't,  though.  I  shall  not  waste  good  time 
which  I  might  spend  in  sleep." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Nan's  little  hoard  of  money  was  exhausted  the 
first  of  April.  Besides  the  amount  which  was  to 
take  her  home,  and  which  she  would  not  touch, 
under  any  circumstances,  she  had  the  four  dollars 
for  her  board  that  week,  and  about  half  a  dollar 
for  emergencies.  She  had  known  that  this  time 
was  near,  but  she  would  not  face  the  worst  till 
she  must.  A  slight  illness,  and  the  consequent 
doctor's  bill,  had  shortened  her  stay  by  one  week, 
and  ten  dollars  loaned  to  an  impecunious  art 
student,  who  now  frankly  confessed  her  inability 
to  pay  her  debts,  meant  the  loss  of  two  weeks 
more  to  Nan.  Evidently  she  must  go  home  at 
once,  unless  she  could  find  something  to  do.  But 
what  could  she  do?  She  put  the  shabby  little 
purse  in  her  pocket,  and  went  to  look  up  Miss 
Jamieson. 

She  was  alone,  and  Nan  stated  her  dilemma. 

"  Of  course  you  must  not  go  home  now.  It  is 
only  about  six  weeks  till  closing  time,  and  you 
must  do  the  full  year's  work.  What  is  the  matter 
with  borrowing  from  me?  " 

Nan  shook  her  head  decidedly.  "  No,  never, 
but  I  thank  you  just  the  same.     I  didn't  come  to 

112 


Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist,  I13 

you  to  have  you  offer  to  lend  me  money,  but  I 
thought  you  might  be  able  to  think  of  something 
I  can  do  to  help  myself." 

"  Let's  see  what  we  can  find  ?  Where  is  the 
Herald.  We'll  look  over  the  wants.  What  can 
you  do  ?  " 

Nan  shook  her  head  dolefully.  "  Nothing  but 
daub  paint.  I've  spent  all  my  money  and  I  can't 
ever  come  back,  and  I  have  learned  just  enough 
to  show  me  that  I  don't  know  anything.  At  the 
same  time,  I  love  painting  better  than  ever.  I  will 
come  back  and  study,  even  if  it  takes  me  years 
to  earn  money  enough.  I'll  even  teach  school 
to  earn  it.  I  said  I  never  would,  but  I  will.  I'll 
teach  all  next  year  and  save  enough  money  to 
pay  my  board  here  another  year.  I'll  go  up  a 
flight  higher  to  a  room  with  more  women  in  it, 
if  necessary.  I  don't  believe  I  would  love  paint- 
ing so  much  if  I  had  no  gift  for  it." 

"  Of  course  you  wouldn't,"  said  Miss  Jamieson, 
absently.  She  was  running  over  the  columns  of 
the  Herald.     "  You  couldn't  keep  books  a  little  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  hate  figures,  and  I  don't  know  the  first 
thing  about  bookkeeping.  I  told  you  that  I  can't 
do  anything,  so  there's  no  use  in  looking.  I'll  go 
home  and  brush  up  my  studies  a  little  so  that  I 
can  pass  an  examination  for  a  teacher's  certificate. 
Don't  take  any  more  trouble." 

"  There  seems  to  be  nothing  here  for  you.    You 
would  better  advertise." 
8 


114  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

"  For  what  ?  " 

"  I'll  think  of  something.  I  believe  in  the  law 
of  supply  and  demand.  There  must  be  some* 
thing  in  this  big  town  for  a  bright  girl  like  you 
to  do.  You  have  your  afternoons,  and  if  you 
can  make  ever  so  little  it  will  help  you  out.  I 
wish  you  knew  anything  about  bookkeeping,  I 
might  get  some  work  in  our  house.  Why  don't 
you  talk  to  that  Miss  Jennings,  in  your  room  ? 
She  gets  her  living  somehow,  and  seems  to 
know  how  to  get  along  without  giving  much  time 
to  it.  She  paints  a  water  color  portrait  now  and 
then,  or  does  a  crayon  portrait.  Winter  before 
last  she  actually  taught  a  class  in  calisthenics 
in  night  schools,  and  she  didn't  know  any  more 
about  calisthenics  than  I  do.  She  went  to  a 
teacher  and  paid  twenty-five  dollars  to  be  coached 
for  the  position,  and  she  got  along  very  well,  not 
to  say  anything  of  making  three  dollars  an  hour. 
She  has  confidence  enough  for  anything.  I  went 
down  one  night  to  see  her  teach,  and  she  carried 
the  affair  off  like  a. specialist. 

"  The  next  thing  she  did  was  to  teach  clay 
modeling,  and  I  suppose  she  learned  how  to 
model  by  teaching  it.  She  writes  a  little,  too,  I 
think,  for  I  have  seen  letters  from  publishers  at 
her  plate.     Could  you  write  at  all  ?  " 

"  No,  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing.  I  might 
possibly  illustrate  some  day,  though  ;  I  have  been 
working  at  pen-and-ink  all  winter." 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  !l5 

"  Why  don't  you  try  to  sell  some  of  your 
sketches?  " 

"  They  are  not  good  enough." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  Has  any  one  told  you 
so?" 

"  No,  but  I  simply  can't  go  to  editors  and  ask 
them  to  look  at  my  work." 

"  You'll  get  over  that  nonsense  before  you 
make  your  living  by  art.  You  must  have  more 
faith  in  yourself.  It  is  more  than  half  the  battle. 
The  world  is  very  apt  to  take  you  at  your  own 
estimate.     Are  you  going?  " 

"Yes;  I  am  so  tired  and  gloomy  I'm  going  to 
sleep  and  forget  who  I  am." 

"  Don't  get  the  blues,  whatever  happens.  Keep 
turning  thingyover  in  your  mind,  and  we'll  both 
watch  the  advertisements.  We'll  be  sure  to  find 
something  to  keep  you  here." 

A  couple  of  evenings  later  Miss  Jamieson  tapped 
at  Nan's  door.  "  Come  down  to  the  parlor ;  I 
want  to  talk  to  you." 

"  Come  in.  They  are  out,  every  woman  of 
them.  I  was  going  to  a  lecture  at  Cooper,  but 
when  I  found  they  were  going  out,  I  stayed  in  to 
celebrate." 

*'  I  think  perhaps  I  am  on  the  trail  of  some- 
thing for  you,"  and  Miss  Jamieson  took  some 
clippings  from  her  purse.  "  There  doesn't  seem 
to  be  anything  just  desirable,  but  this  might  do. 
It's  a  lazy  woman,  I  suppose,  who  wants  some 


Ii6  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

one  to  attend  to  her  correspondence.  She  is  in 
Brooklyn,  but  you  would  better  answer  it.  You 
write  a  fashionable  hand,  and  she  will  like  that. 
Put  on  your  green  gown  and  let  your  hair  stick 
out  around  your  ears,  and  she  can't  resist  you. 
Even  if  it  brings  you  only  two  or  three  dollars  a 
week,  you  would  better  take  it." 

"  But  two  or  three  dollars  wouldn't  pay  my 
board,  even  if  I  lived  on  the  roof." 

"No;  but  we'll  find  something  else.  Let's  see 
some  of  your  pen-and-ink  work." 

Nan  obediently  brought  her  sketches,  and 
Miss  Jamieson  looked  at  them  critically. 

"  I  don't  see  why  they  are  not  good,"  was  her 
verdict.  "  Pick  out  some  of  your  best  things  and 
send  them  to  editors.  Some  of  this  work  is  ex- 
cellent. That  small  youngster  offering  a  toad- 
stool to  a  toad  is  very  clever.  Send  it  to  some 
paper  which  has  a  children's  corner.  You  are  too 
afraid  to  be  successful.  I'm  going  downstairs  to 
ask  Miss  Seymour  if  she  knot's  of  any  place  where 
you  can  get  illustrating  to  do.  She  works  for  a 
publishing  house.  She  is  a  proof-reader,  and  she 
may  know  of  something  for  you.  Meantime,  you 
are  not  to  pack  your  trunk.  If  I  find  Miss  Sey- 
mour in  I'll  come  back  and  report  to  you." 

Miss  Seymour  was  in,  and  presently  Miss 
Jamieson  came  back  with  some  papers  in  her 
hands. 

"  I  have  it,"  she  announced  triumphantly.  "  The 


Annice   Wynkoop^  Artist.  WJ 

very  thing  you  want.  Miss  Seymour  says  this 
paper,  TJie  Educational  Headlight,  teacher's  jour- 
nal, you  know,  wants  a  '  special  artist,'  and  the 
editor  asked  her  people  if  they  knew  of  some  one. 
She  says  she  likes  your  looks,  and  she  likes  your 
sketches,  which  I  took  down  without  your  knowl- 
edge. You  may  go  to  this  editor  man,  and  say 
she  sent  you.  So  you  must  take  your  sketches 
and  go  to  see  him  to-morrow.  The  work  is 
easy ;  they  want  flowers  and  triangles  and  other 
geometrical  things,  and  decorative  heads  for 
Arbor  Day  and  Fourth  of  July  and  such  occasions. 
You  can  do  them  if  you  only  think  so.  Now  I 
must  go  down  and  darn  stockings.  Good  luck  to 
you  !  " 

Nan  felt  like  a  girl  in  a  story  book  as  she  waited 
for  the  editor.  He  was  by  no  means  a  formidable 
youth,  but  he  had  a  **  teachery  "  manner,  which 
reminded  her  of  Mr.  Bamford.  The  teacher- 
editor  seemed  pleased  with  the  work  Nan  showed 
him,  and  he  bought  the  toad  picture  at  once,  say- 
ing it  would  do  nicely  for  teachers  to  reproduce 
on  the  blackboard,  and  it  would  correlate  with  a 
lesson  on  the  toad  which  he  intended  to  use  in 
the  next  number  of  this  paper.  He  then  gave 
her  some  suggestions  which  he  wished  her  to 
follow,  and  politely  escorted  her  to  the  elevator. 

"If  I  only  suit,"  thought  Nan,  as  she  went 
home.  She  got  out  her  materials  and  went  to 
work  with  a  will.     "At  any  rate,  I  will  have  some 


Ii8  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

money  for  my  toad  picture,  and  it  will  be  the  first 
I  ever  earned.  It  won't  be  the  last  by  any 
means." 

After  an  hour  or  two  she  went  over  to  the 
Astor  library  to  get  some  hints  for  illustrations 
of  Esquimo  children,  and  she  spent  the  evening 
over  her  picture,  as  Miss  Tarbell  called  it.  Miss 
Tarbell  was  much  interested  in  Nan's  new  venture, 
for  she  was  a  subscriber  to  The  HeadligJit,  and 
kept  the  bound  volumes  on  her  desk. 

The  next  afternoon  Nan  drew  a  dandelion  in 
blossom,  a  dandelion  gone  to  seed,  besides  cutting 
up  the  blossom,  and  drawing  all  the  parts.  One 
of  the  art  students  who  lived  in  a  suburban  town 
furnished  the  dandelion,  and  promised  to  bring 
Nan  any  flowers  she  needed.  Nan  made,  also,  a 
border  of  dandelions  conventionalized,  an  initial 
letter,  and  a  tail  piece,  working  in  the  long-suf- 
fering dandelion.  This  work  was  finished  in 
Miss  Jamieson's  room  in  the  evening,  for  her 
room-mates  were  out  and  Nan's  were  in. 

"  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  steep  some  dandelions 
and  make  a  tea,"  said  Nan,  as  she  wiped  her  pen. 
"  I  can't  think  of  anything  else  to  do,  I  suppose 
this  is  correlation,  about  which  the  editor  talked 
so  much.  He  talked  three  quarters  of  an  hour, 
and  I  can  remember  only  two  words, — pedagogy 
and  correlation.  I  hope  I  looked  as  if  I  knew 
what  they  meant.  Correlation  means  that  you 
have  pictures  of  dandehons  and  sing  songs  about 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  119 

them,  and  speak  pieces  about  them,  and  have  a 
botany  lesson  on  the  dandelion.  I  really  want 
to  be  pedagogical  and  correlative.  I  think  I  must 
drink  some  dandelion  tea." 

"  You  would  better  come  out  to  the  drug  store 
and  have  some  soda  with  me,"  laughed  Miss 
Jamieson.  "  It's  only  nine  o'clock,  and  I'm  very 
thirsty." 

They  had  their  soda,  and  then  they  walked  up 
to  one  of  the  little  parks  which  were  gay  with 
tulips  and  hyacinths.  The  trees  were  beginning 
to  show  their  green  ;  spring  was  in  the  air.  Late 
as  it  was,  a  few  children  were  playing  tag,  their 
mothers  were  seated  on  benches  enjoying  a  brief 
rest.  Young  lovers  sat  with  their  arms  around 
each  other,  perfectly  oblivious  of  onlookers. 
The  electric  lights  showed  their  faces  as  plainly 
as  daylight,  and  Nan,  as  usual,  studied  them  as 
she  passed.  She  was  getting  to  have  a  passion 
for  faces,  and  sometimes  she  forgot  herself  and 
stared,  so  absorbed  was  she. 

After  a  half  hour  Nan  and  Miss  Jamieson  walked 
home.  "  Yes  ;  the  city  is  lovely  now,"  said  Miss 
Jamieson,  in  reply  to  some  remark  of  Nan's, 
"  but  in  a  few  weeks  it  will  be  like  a  furnace. 
You'll  get  away,  though,  before  it  is  really  hot. 
We  people  who  have  to  stay  here  all  summer 
have  nothing  good  to  say  for  New  York." 

"  I'm  afraid  I'll  never  come  back,  and  I  hate  to 
think  of  leaving,"  said  Nan,  mournfully. 


120  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

"  Oh,  you'll  be  on  your  feet  the  first  thing  you 
know,  with  your  pictures  and  correlation.  Keep 
up  your  courage.  You  are  too  young  to  have 
the  blues." 

When  Nan  carried  her  work  to  the  editor  he 
was  pleased  with  it,  and  he  kindly  told  her  that 
she  bade  fair  to  suit  them.  He  gave  her  a 
new  assignment,  which  was  to  illustrate  a  lesson 
on  bees.  She  was  to  draw  a  drone,  a  queen  bee, 
a  cell,  a  piece  of  honeycomb,  besides  making 
more  initial  letters  and  head  and  tail  pieces, 
wherein  the  busy  bee  was  to  figure. 

A  mathematical  lesson  was  also  to  be  illustrated, 
and  she  was  asked  to  make  gill,  pint,  and  quart 
measures,  and  the  various  dry  measures.  These, 
with  a  hint  for  a  blackboard  sketch  for  closing 
exercises,  completed  the  editor's  orders.  As  slie 
left  he  presented  her  with  an  autograph  copy  of 
his  monograph  on  Pestalozzi,  which  Miss  Wyn- 
koop promptly  gave  to  Miss  Tarbell. 

This  new  work  took  considerable  time,  for  Nan 
could  not  make  a  satisfactory  decoration  for  clos- 
ing exercises.  She  consulted  Miss  Jamieson, 
but  although  she  was  sympathetic,  she  had  no 
views  on  the  subject.  At  last  Nan  finished  the 
design,  and  submitted  it.  The  editor  made  a  few 
criticisms,  and  offered  some  suggestions,  which 
Nan  followed  out  at  once,  and  the  design  was 
accepted. 

"  There  will  be  nothing  more  for  a  week,"  said 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  I'2I 

Mr.  Foote.  "  Perhaps  you  would  like  a  check  for 
the  work  you  have  done." 

Nan  thought  she  would.  It  was  on  the  day  of 
the  week  when  her  board  was  due,  and  she  had 
just  thirty-seven  cents  in  her  purse,  besides  the 
money  put  aside  to  take  her  home. 

She  pocketed  the  check  for  eight  dollars  with 
thankfulness.  It  meant  two  weeks'  board,  and  an 
opportunity  for  two  weeks'  study.  The  editor 
promised  to  let  her  know  when  he  needed  her 
again,  and  she  hoped  that  would  be  soon. 

Nan  had  walked  a  great  deal  of  late,  because 
she  couldn't  afford  car-fare,  but  now  she  felt  so 
rich  that  she  went  up  to  see  Miss  Henshawe. 

That  enthusiastic  young  woman  embraced  her 
and  inquired  where  she  had  kept  herself.  Nan 
told  the  history  of  the  last  two  days.  She  felt 
more  hopeful  now,  and  she  could  afford  to  tell 
how  low  her  finances  had  been. 

"  Why,  you  poor  thing,"  cried  Miss  Henshawe. 
"  Why  didn't  you  come  to  me  ?  I've  been  get- 
ting orders,  and  I'm  simply  rolling  in  wealth. 
You  look  thin.  Do  you  get  enough  to  eat  at  that 
house  ?  Are  you  sure  ?  At  any  rate  the  food  is 
not  what  you  ought  to  have.  I  am  afraid  your 
people  will  think  that  you  have  changed.  It's  so 
fortunate  that  you  dropped  in  just  now,  for  Min- 
erva and  I  have  been  talking  about  you,  and  we 
wanted  to  see  you.  In  fact,  we  have  a  plan  in 
which  you  are  concerned.     Minerva  is  going  to  a 


122  Annice   Wynkoop^  Artist. 

wedding  next  week.  An  old  school  friend  of  hers 
is  to  be  married,  and  Minerva  is  to  be  bridesmaid. 
It's  a  ridiculous  match,  but  it  is  sweet,  too.  This 
man  is  a  widower  with  four  children,  and  his  wife 
is  dead." 

"  Naturally,"  assented  Nan. 

Miss  Henshawe  laughed.  "Where  was  I  ?  O, 
yes ;  this  woman,  Serena  McDowell — what  a 
name — is  going  to  marry  her  old  love  and  mother 
all  his  four  children.  Minerva  is  going  to  be 
bridesmaid,  as  I  told  you  before.  This  narrative 
of  mine  has  something  to  do  with  you,  though 
you  don't  see  the  point  yet.  Now  here  it  comes. 
Minerva  will  be  away  a  month,  for  while  she  is 
west,  she  is  going  to  visit  some  more  friends  and 
a  host  of  relations.  She  insists  that  she  can't 
leave  me  alone,  and  she  says  she  will  feel  perfectly 
easy  about  me  if  you  will  come  and  stay  with  me. 
Say  you  will  come.     We  will  have  great  fun." 

Nan  hesitated.  "  You  are  perfectly  sure  that 
you  are  not  doing  this  to  help  me  ?  " 

"Nonsense!  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  Minerva 
and  I  had  the  whole  thing  planned  before  I  knew 
that  you  were  broke  ?  " 

Miss  Henshawe  occasionally  indulged  in  a  little 
slang. 

"We  will  have  a  beautiful  time,"  she  went  on. 
"  I  can  cook  several  things  in  a  chafing-dish,  and 
quite  often  they  are  fit  to  eat.  I  hope  you  know 
something  about  cooking,  but  if  you  don't,  never 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  1 23 

mind.  We  can  go  out  to  dinner  every  night. 
There  is  a  house  in  the  next  block  where  we  can 
get  good  table  board." 

"  I'll  come  if  you  will  let  me  pay  half  the  ex- 
penses." 

"That  wouldn't  be  fair,  for  you  are  coming  to 
chaperon  me.  But  you  may  pay  half  the  ex- 
pense of  the  culinary  department,  since  you  are 
so  very  independent." 

"  I  am.  I  have  eight  dollars  and  thirty-seven 
cents.  No,  eight  dollars  and  thirty-two  cents ; 
it  cost  me  five  cents  to  get  up  here.  I  owe  no 
man  anything,  neither  any  woman,  except  the 
matron,  and  I  shall  pay  her  to-night  for  last  week's 
board.  I  am  the  special  artist  of  TJie  Educational 
Headlight.     Who  says  I  have  not  a  career?  " 

"  You  have,  if  you  don't  marry  and  settle  down. 
Sometimes  I  hope  you  will,  and  sometimes  I 
hope  you  won't.  I  believe  Minerva's  old-maid 
friend's  marriage  has  set  me  off  into  a  romantic 
state  of  mind." 

"  No ;  it  hasn't.  I  knew  you  were  romantic 
when  I  first  met  you.  By  the  way,  I  wonder  why 
people  always  say  marry  and  settle  down.  When 
I  marry  I  shall  soar  instead  of  settling  down. 
And  I  shall  never  marry  any  man  unless  he  loves 
paints  as  well  as  I  do." 

"  Don't,  I  beg  you,  ever  fall  in  love  with  an 
art  student.  A  man  art  student  is  good  for  noth- 
ing.    There   is  Basil   Parish,  he   is  an  absolute 


124  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

cumberer  of  the  ground.  He  really  has  talent, 
and  he  might  amount  to  something  if  he  would 
cut  his  hair  and  go  to  work  in  earnest.  But  he 
spends  most  of  his  time  dusting  his  china  and 
bric-a-brac.  A  regular  old  maid  !  You  haven't 
been  to  see  his  studio  yet  ;  what  a  shame.  I'll 
get  Minerva  to  take  us  before  she  goes.  He  is 
very  proud  of  his  studio,  and  his  things  are  so 
much  nicer  than  mine  that  I  turn  green  with  envy, 
though  I  wouldn't  have  him  know  it  for  the  world. 
And  Minerva  goes  about  and  says  how  much 
better  his  arrangements  are  than  mine,  till  I  feel 
like  pinching  her.  It's  great  fun  to  see  him  mak- 
ing tea  in  a  leaky  copper  kettle  which  he  picked 
up  in  some  old  junk-shop  down  town." 

Nan  declined  Miss  Henshawe's  invitation  to 
remain  for  dinner.  It  was  the  night  when  she 
wrote  her  usual  weekly  letter  home,  and  she  never 
neglected  this  duty.  As  she  ate  her  dinner  she 
was  thankful  that  she  could  go  to  stay  with  Miss 
Henshawe,  for  she  felt  that  she  needed  a  change. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

The  change  from  the  boarding-house  to  the 
studio  was  an  excellent  thing  for  Nan,  who  had 
been  running  down  for  several  weeks.  If  she  had 
been  at  home  her  mother  would  have  brewed 
home-made  bitters  for  her,  made  out  of  divers 
roots  and  herbs.  This  she  always  dispensed  in 
the  spring  to  such  members  of  her  family  as  were 
"complaining."  Nan  was  glad  that  she  need  not 
take  the  bitters,  but  she  felt  that  she  needed 
something,  for  she  had  not  her  usual  strength. 
After  a  few  days  with  Miss  Henshawe,  however, 
she  began  to  improve,  and  Miss  Henshawe  told 
her  she  looked  much  better. 

They  did  their  own  cooking,  and  their  dinners 
were  a  success,  thanks  to  Nan.  She  very  soon 
saw  that  Miss  Henshawe's  culinary  knowledge 
did  not  extend  beyond  chocolate,  salad  dressing 
and  Welsh  rarebit,  and  Nan  took  complete  charge 
of  the  kitchen  department  and  the  marketing. 
At  home  she  was  considered  an  artistic  young 
lady  who  knew  next  to  nothing  about  cooking, 
and  when  Mrs.  Wyncoop  heard  that  Nan  was 
doing  the  catering  and  cooking  for  herself  and 
Miss  Henshawe,  she  remarked,  with  much  pity  in 
125 


126  Annice   Wyfikoop,  Artist. 

her  tone,  "  Poor  children."  But  Miss  Henshawe 
and  her  friends  praised  Nan's  efforts  so  much  that 
her  head  was  nearly  turned. 

Miss  Minerva  left  her  little  room  to  Nan,  and 
the  girl  thoroughly  enjoyed  it.  It  made  her  think 
of  her  own  little  room  at  home,  and  when  she 
had  pinned  up  some  of  her  sketches  she  could 
almost  imagine  herself  under  the  roof  of  the  brown 
house.  She  told  herself  that  if  she  did  come  back 
next  year  she  would  not  go  back  to  that  board- 
ing house.  She  would  find  some  other  way  to 
live,  even  if  she  had  to  take  a  halUroom  and  do 
light  housekeeping.  Miss  Frost  had  tried  to 
frighten  her  out  of  this  plan  by  telling  her  that 
she  would  become  queer  and  talk  to  herself,  but 
she  thought  she  might  better  be  too  lonely  than 
to  have  too  much  society. 

She  had  found  her  room-mates  quite  agreeable, 
and  had  managed  to  get  through  the  winter  very 
comfortably.  Miss  Tarbell  and  Miss  Stearns 
were  perfect  ladies,  and  Miss  Jennings  was  by  no 
means  objectionable.  But  Miss  Stearns  had  left, 
and  gone  to  live  in  a  flat  with  some  friends,  and 
for  a  few  days  the  empty  bed  had  been  occupied 
by  transients.  Nan  bore  it  with  as  much  philos- 
ophy as  she  could  command,  till  a  new  specimen, 
who  called  herself  Miss  Du  Bois,  arrived.  She 
was  a  most  unprepossessing  individual,  who  was 
untidy  to  a  degree,  and  who,  to  the  disappoint- 
ment of  her  three  room-mates,  never  spent   an 


Annice   Wynkoop^  Artist.  12/ 

evening  out.  She  was  always  at  home,  seated 
at  the  table  reading  books  from  the  circulating 
library.  She  kept  the  light  burning  till  midnight 
for  several  nights,  till  Miss  Tarbell  remonstrated, 
when  she  took  the  lamp  in  the  closet  and  read  as 
long  as  she  pleased.  Nan  grew  very  nervous. 
She  feared  the  woman  would  fall  asleep  and 
knock  the  lamp  over.  She  never  slept  till  Miss 
Du  Bois  went  to  bed,  and  once  in  bed  she  was 
likely  to  rise  and  roam  about  the  room.  Once 
Nan  awoke  in  a  fright.  Miss  Jennings  was  bury- 
ing her  face  in  her  pillow  and  shaking  like  a  leaf. 
Nan  sat  up  in  bed  too  scared  to  speak.  "  What 
is  the  matter  ?  "  she  asked,  as  soon  as  she  could 
find  her  voice. 

"  It's  that  terrible  thing.  Miss  Du  Bois.  She 
was  standing  at  the  foot  of  my  bed,  looking  at 
me." 

"Are  you  sure  you  weren't  dreaming,"  whis- 
pered Nan,  patting  Miss  Jennings  as  if  she  were 
a  frightened  child.     "  She  is  in  bed  now." 

"  Yes ;  I  didn't  dare  move  till  she  went  away. 
I  shall  never,  never  pass  another  night  in  this 
room  unless  she  leaves.     I  believe  she  is  insane." 

Miss  Jennings  refused  to  go  back  to  her  bed, 
so  Nan  made  room  for  her  beside  her.  The  next 
morning  the  three,  for  Miss  Tarbell  joined  them, 
went  to  the  matron,  and  asked  to  have  Miss  Du 
Bois  removed.  The  matron  promised  to  make 
the  change,  and  Miss  Du  Bois  was  not  there  the 


128  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

next  evening.  Still,  Nan  had  a  fear  of  other 
transients,  and  she  was  glad  to  go  with  Miss 
Henshawe. 

Nan  worked  very  faithfully  during  these  last 
few  weeks,  for  she  felt  that  she  might  not  soon 
have  another  opportunity  for  study.  Besides,  she 
did  considerable  work  for  TJie  Educational  Head- 
light. The  editor  was  planning  his  fall  numbers, 
and  Nan  spent  some  of  her  spare  time  in  drawing 
pumpkins,  for  a  lesson  on  that  vegetable.  She 
also  made  decorative  heads  for  Thanksgiving  and 
Christmas.  She  enjoyed  the  work,  and  felt  that 
she  was  improving. 

Soon  after  she  went  to  stay  with  Miss  Hen- 
shawe, she  received  a  letter  from  the  Brooklyn 
lady  who  had  advertised  for  an  amanuensis. 
Nan  had  forgotten  that  she  had  replied  to  it,  and 
she  was  surprised  at  a  request  to  call  at  once. 
Nan  went  that  same  afternoon,  dressed  in  her  best 
clothes,  as  Miss  Jamieson  had  advised.  She  found 
that  the  lady,  whose  name  was  Mrs.  Richardson, 
had  a  few  notes  to  write  every  day,  and  her 
household  accounts  to  keep,  and  she  thought  she 
was  overburdened.  Nan  wrote  some  letters,  filed 
others,  added  a  few  columns  of  figures,  and  Mrs. 
Richardson  expressed  her  satisfaction.  When 
Nan  left  she  had  agreed  to  spend  two  hours  on 
Tuesdays  and  Fridays  of  each  week,  for  which 
she  was  to  receive  three  dollars. 

**  I  can  live  on  this  money,  and  what  I  can 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  129 

make  working  for  The  Educational  HcadligJit,  and 
I  believe  I  shall  dare  come  back  next  year,"  said 
Nan,  as  she  hailed  a  car  which  would  take  her  to 
the  bridge. 

She  found  her  visits  at  Mrs.  Richardson's  quite 
amusing.  The  lady's  husband  often  came  into 
the  boudoir,  where  Nan  sat  at  her  desk.  He  was 
a  very  small  man,  and  his  wife  was  a  large  and 
very  imposing  woman.  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilfer," 
Nan  called  them  at  once.  He  always  addressed 
his  wife  as  Precious,  and  she,  in  turn,  always  called 
him  Treasure.  He  looked  over  the  expenses  of  the 
preceding  week,  on  Tuesday,  and  invariably  said, 
"  Precious,  we  are  spending  too  much  money." 
At  this  juncture.  Precious  would  put  her  hand- 
kerchief to  her  eyes,  and  say  she  knew  that  she 
was  an  impractical  little  thing,  and  that  she  never 
ought  to  have  married  a  man  like  Treasure.  This 
always  brought  Treasure  on  his  knees,  and  a  tender 
scene  followed  which  was  very  embarrassing  to 
the  young  lady  at  the  desk. 

Nan  and  Miss  Henshawe  got  a  good  deal  of 
fun  out  of  the  Richardsons.  Miss  Henshawe,  as 
head  of  the  house,  declared  that  she  was  Treas- 
ure, and  if  Nan  had  anything  particularly  good 
for  dinner,  would  insist  that  Precious  was  spend- 
ing too  much  money.  If  Nan  went  out  and  was 
uncertain  about  the  time  of  her  return,  she  would 
pin  on  the  screen,  which  they  called  their  bulletin 
board,  a  note  like  this :  **  Treasure,  I  have  gone 
9 


130  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

to  Miss  Frost's.  Back  as  soon  as  I  can. — Pre- 
cious." 

Altogether,  the  two  girls  enjoyed  their  house- 
keeping. Nan  thoroughly  liked  Miss  Henshawe, 
for  she  found  that  there  was  much  sense  behind 
all  the  affectation.  As  Nan  told  her,  she  was  very 
sensible  when  in  the  bosom  of  her  family,  when 
she  forgot  to  put  on  airs. 

Miss  Frost  was  a  frequent  visitor  to  the  studio, 
more  for  Nan's  sake  than  Miss  Henshawe's,  how- 
ever. They  often  dined  together,  Miss  Frost  and 
Miss  Henshawe  taking  turns  at  playing  hostess. 
Mr.  Frost  stopped  on  his  way  to  France,  and  he 
threw  new  life  into  the  rather  dull  existence  of 
the  three  women.  Miss  Henshawe  frankly  ac- 
knowledged that  she  simply  worshiped  him,  and 
she  took  it  for  granted  that  Nan  did.  Nan  did 
not  worship  him,  she  was  not  even  sure  that  she 
liked  him.  He  made  her  feel  very  small  and  in- 
significant and  country-bred,  and  it  takes  a  large 
stock  of  the  Christian  graces  to  make  one  like 
such  a  person. 

Nan  came  home  one  afternoon  after  her  two 
hours  with  Precious,  to  find  both  Miss  and  Mr. 
Frost  in  the  studio,  and  Miss  Henshawe  in  the 
act  of  displaying  her  pictures.  Nan's  very  own 
pictures.  The  portraits  were  standing  on  the 
couch,  in  the  order  in  which  they  were  painted, 
and  Miss  Henshawe  was  pointing  out  the  improve- 
ment in  the  work  since  September. 


Annice   Wynkoop^  Artist.  131 

Nan  was  angry.  Her  poor  little  pictures!  She 
had  firmly  refused  to  let  Mr.  Frost  see  her  work, 
and  now  Clara  Henshawe  was  showing  the  things 
of  which  she  was  most  ashamed.  Nan  slipped 
out  of  the  studio,  hoping  that  no  one  had  seen 
her,  and  shut  herself  in  her  room.  The  Frosts  did 
not  see  her,  but  Miss  Henshawe  did,  and  she  fol- 
lowed her, 

"Are  you  ill,  Nan  ?  Oh,  say,  you  are  not  angry 
because  I  showed  your  pictures?  How  silly  you 
are.  I  am  proud  of  your  progress,  and  I  just  got 
them  out,  that  is  all.  It  was  all  my  fault.  The 
Frosts  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  H  you  don't 
stop  looking  at  me  that  way  I'll  drown  myself 
and  be  '  a  body,  a  moist,  damp,  unpleasant  body,' " 
and   Miss  Henshawe  struck  a  dramatic  attitude. 

Nan  laughed,  Miss  Henshawe  was  so  ridiculous. 

"  It  looks  so  vain  of  me,  as  if  I  wanted  to  show 
my  poor  little  pictures.  I  don't  mind  Miss  Frost, 
but  I  do  mind  that  big  Frost  man.  He  has  been 
everywhere,  and  seen  everything,  and  done  every- 
thing, and  what  can  he  see  in  my  miserable  little 
daubs?" 

"  Sits  the  wind  in  that  quarter  ?  "  thought  Miss 
Henshawe.  "  He  seems  to  enjoy  looking  at  them. 
He  says  you  have  a  future,  and  he  is  the  last  man 
to  encourage  a  girl  to  go  on  with  art  unless  he 
thinks  she  ought  to.  Wait,  and  I'll  tell  you  what 
I  heard  him  say.  I  was  lugging  out  more  can- 
vases,— he  was  looking  at  that    portrait  of  the 


132  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

Italian  girl — and  he  kept  looking  at  it,  and  Avhis- 
tled.  He  always  does  that  when  he  is  pleased. 
Then  he  said,  *  Jess,  my  dear,  you  knew  what 
you  were  about  when  you  brought  this  little  girl 
down  from  the  country.' 

" '  She  has  it  in  her,'  said  Miss  Frost. 

"  *  She  has  it  in  her,  and,  what  is  more  to  the  point, 
she  can  bring  it  out  on  canvas.  Paris,  I  should  say, 
after  a  year  or  two  more.  Watch  her  closely,  and 
don't  let  her  get  any  mannerisms;  young  painters 
are  so  apt  to  copy  someone's  faults.  She  has  a 
straight-out-from-the-shoulder  style  of  painting 
which  I  like.  Oh,  yes,  she  has  it  in  her,  but  she 
is  too  good-looking  for  a  single  woman,  and  she'll 
marry  and  spoil  it  all.' 

"  So  there,  Miss  Annice  Wynkoop." 

"  No,  I  won't  marry  and  spoil  it  all,"  said  Nan. 
"  Since  you  really  overheard  all  this,  you  dear  old 
eavesdropper,  I  must  believe  Mr.  Frost  meant  it. 
And  he  knows  too  much  about  pictures  to  be 
entirely  mistaken.  Clara  Henshawe,  I  am  coming 
back  next  year.  I  don't  know  how  I  shall  live, 
but  I'm  coming  as  sure  as  the  autumn  comes." 

"  Good  girl.  You'll  get  along,  with  health  and 
courage,  and  I'll  be  proud  of  you  yet.  Did  you 
do  any  marketing  ?  "  asked  Miss  Henshawe,  sud- 
denly coming  down  to  practical  life. 

"  My  dear,  I  forgot  it.     I'll  go  right  out." 

"  No,  I'll  go.  You  look  utterly  used  up.  Lie 
still,  and  as  soon  as  the  Frosts  are  gone  I'll  rush 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  133 

out  and  get  something  that  I  know  enough  to 
cook.  I  believe  that  Brooklyn  trip  tires  you  more 
than  anything  else  you  do." 

Nan  was  so  tired  that  she  was  obedient.  She 
lay  quietly,  but  her  thoughts  were  very  busy 
building  air-castles.  Mr.  Frost's  praise  meant  a 
great  deal  to  her,  and  she  felt  that  she  was  repaid 
for  her  hard  work  of  the  winter.  "  Oh,  I  must 
come  back  next  year,  I  must,"  she  cried,  with  her 
face  buried  in  the  pillow.  "  I  want  to  come  back 
more  than  I  wanted  to  come  at  first.  I  can  paint, 
I  knew  I  could,  and  I  am  so  glad  and  thankful." 

When  Miss  Henshawe  called  Nan  to  dinner 
the  table  presented  a  festive  appearance.  There 
was  one  splendid  red  rose  in  a  tall  jar  by  way 
of  decoration,  and  the  substantial  part  of  the  feast 
consisted  of  roast  chicken  and  green  peas.  On 
the  tiny  buffet  Clara  had  placed  her  one  cut-glass 
dish,  which  was  filled  with  strawberries. 

''  Why,  it's  a  spread,"  cried  Nan.  "  Clara  Hen- 
shawe, you  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  cooked 
that  chicken ! " 

**  Delicatessen  store,"  replied  Miss  Henshawe, 
laconically.  "  It's  in  honor  of  you.  I  am  so 
puffed  up  with  pride  and  conceit  over  Mr.  Frost's 
opinion  of  your  work  that  I  had  to  do  something 
to  celebrate.  I  could  have  hugged  that  man  ;  he's 
an  angel." 

"  Perhaps  he  would  have  enjoyed  the  hugging," 
said  Nan,  beginning  to  carve  the  chicken. 


134  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

"  I  was  afraid  he  would  prefer  someone  else." 

**  I  don't  know  anyone  but  you  who  has  any 
desire  to  be  so  demonstrative.  For  my  part,  I'm 
much  obliged  to  him  for  this  chicken.  I'm  as 
hungry  as  a  bear.  The  peas  are  very  nice,  and 
you  didn't  burn  the  potatoes." 

"You  are  so  patronizing.  I'll  burn  them  yet, 
if  you  miss  anything.  I'm  really  improving  in 
my  cooking  ;  I  can  see  it  whether  you  do  or  not. 
Mr.  Frost  sails  Wednesday." 

"  So  I  understood.  Your  sudden  changes  of 
subject  are  sometimes  a  trifle  perplexing,  Clara." 

"  He  and  Miss  Frost  are  going  sketching  up 
the  Bronx  Saturday,  and  we  are  invited.  That 
is,  I  suppose,  Miss  Wynkoop  is  invited,  and  Miss 
Henshawe  is  asked  because  it  wouldn't  be  polite 
to  leave  her  out.  I'm  going,  whether  I'm  invited 
or  not." 

"  It  is  good  for  you  to  be  humble,"  said  Nan, 
passing  a  saucer  of  berries.  "  Is  it  a  kind  of  a 
picnic  ?  " 

*'  Yes,  I  imagine  so.  There  will  be  a  row  on 
the  river,  and  more  or  less  painting  by  the 
geniuses  of  the  party,  and  a  general  good  time. 
What  shall  we  wear  ?  " 

*'  Blue  serge  jacket  and  skirt  and  a  shirt  waist. 
It  is  so  comfortable  to  have  only  one  dress.  It 
saves  one's  brain  for  other  problems.  Now  you, 
who  have  several  dresses,  will  lie  awake  to-night 
thinking  which  to  wear." 


Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist.  I35 

"  If  I  were  as  good-looking  as  you  are,  Nan 
Wynkoop,  I  wouldn't  think  twice  about  clothes, 
but  as  it  is,  or  as  I  am,  rather —  * 

*'  Really,  Clara,  I'll  wash  the  dishes  without  all 
that  flattery.  Don't  be  so  exceedingly  personal, 
that's  a  dear,  good  child." 

"  I'm  glad  you  are  handsome,  and  I  don't  see 
any  harm  in  mentioning  it,  now  and  then.  As  I 
often  tell  you,  you  deserve  no  credit  for  your 
good  looks.  I'll  dry  the  dishes  for  you,  then  I'll 
show  you  the  work  I  did  to-day.  It's  good  in  its 
humble  way,  though  no  one  has  raved  over  it." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"A  PERFECTLY  ideal  day,"  was  Miss  Henshawe's 
verdict,  as  she  reached  the  studio  on  the  evening 
of  the  day  she  called  "  Bronx  day."  "  It  was 
simply  perfect,  wasn't  it.  Nan  ?  Will  you  give 
me  that  little  yellow  pillow  ?  It's  in  the  big 
chair.  I  hate  to  bother  you,  but  I'm  so  comfort- 
able that  I'd  rather  do  it  than  move." 

"  You  have  at  least  seven  pillows  on  that  couch," 
said  Nan,  throwing  her  the  yellow  one. 

"  I  need  eight,  and  this  one  just  fits  into  the 
most  tired  place.     Wasn't  it  a  lovely  day  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Nan,  almost  crossly.  "  I'm 
all  stung  with  mosquitoes  till  I  shouldn't  recog- 
nize myself  if  I  looked  in  the  glass,  I've  taken  the 
skin  off  my  hands  rowing,  and  I  quarreled  with 
Mr.  Parrish.     I  believe  I'm  cross." 

"  I  know  it,  child.  I  have  realized  it  for  the 
last  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  and  I  suspected  it 
all  the  way  down  town.  What  is  the  matter? 
Did  Mr.  Frost  make  love  to  you  ?  " 

"  Clara  Henshawe ! " 

"You  needn't  yell  at  me  like  that,  I  merely 
asked  for  information.  I'm  sure  I  thought  he 
did ;  he  looked  like  a  man  who  was  making  love- 
136 


Annice  Wynkoop^  Artiste  I37 

At  least,  he  looked  as  I  suppose  a  man  looks 
when  he  makes  love.  It  is  so  long  since  I  saw 
one  do  it  I  have  almost  forgotten,  more's  the  pity. 
I  don't  see  why  you  look  so  indignant.  You 
might  rather  feel  complimented  at  the  suggestion. 
I  wish  he  would  fall  in  love  with  me,  he  would 
have  a  prosperous  wooing." 

"Clara  Henshawe,  I  don't  see  how  you  can  say 
such  brazen  things.  You  make  me  blush  for 
you. 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  take  the  trouble.  I  don't 
see  any  harm  in  my  saying  things  when  I  think 
them.  I  simply  adore  Teddy  Frost,  bless  him  ! " 
And  Miss  Henshawe  blew  a  kiss  from  the  tips  of 
her  fingers. 

"  What  did  you  go  and  blister  your  hands  for  ?  '* 
Miss  Henshawe  said  after  a  few  moments'  silence. 
"  I  saw  you  rowing  as  if  you  meant  to  get  your 
living  by  it.  I  sat  still  and  let  Basil  Parrish  row 
me  around." 

No  answer  from  Nan,  and  Miss  Henshawe 
started  afresh. 

"  Did  you  and  Mr.  Frost  quarrel  ?  " 

"  No  ;  what  an  idea.  What  would  we  quarrel 
over  ?  I  hope  when  I  quarrel  I'll  know  enough  to 
select  some  one  of  my  own  caliber,  like  Mr.  Par- 
rish, for  instance." 

*'  Then,  what  in  goodness*  name  ails  you  ?  Are 
you  ill  ?  " 

"  No  ;  Clara,  if  you  must  know.     I  feel  a  little 


138  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

sad  to-night.  This  seems  like  the  end  of  so  much 
to  me.  Miss  Frost  is  going  away  next  week,  and 
I  leave,  myself,  very  soon.  I  don't  know  that  I 
shall  ever  come  back.  Of  course  I  want  to  see 
my  people,  and  I  long  to  spend  a  summer  home, 
but  this  life  suits  me  so  entirely  that  my  heart 
is  broken  when  I  realize  that  this  may  be  the  last 
of  it."  Nan's  voice  was  rather  shaky  before  she 
finished  speaking,  and  she  gathered  up  her  jacket, 
hat,  and  gloves,  and  went  to  her  room  and  threw 
herself  on  her  bed.  She  lay  there  an  hour  or  so, 
thinking,  thinking.  At  last  she  rose  and  went 
out  to  Clara. 

"  I  was  very  selfish  to  leave  you.  I  know  you 
are  lonely." 

"  Never  mind.  I  had  a  nap  while  you  were 
gone.  But  I  am  wide-awake  now  and  ready  for 
a  talk.  Lie  down  here,  there  is  plenty  of  room, 
and  I'll  give  you  half  my  pillows. 

"  Nan,  I  believe  that  man  loves  you." 

Nan  jumped  to  her  feet.     "  What  man  ?  " 

"  Of  whom  were  we  talking  a  little  while  ago  ? 
Mr.  Frost,  of  course." 

"  Clara,  I  don't  see  why  you  persist  in  talking 
in  this  fashion.  I'm  not  so  foolish  as  to  think 
all  you  think.  Your  imagination  runs  away  with 
you. 

"Nothing  of  the  kind.  I  can  tell  the  signs. 
I've  seen  Theodore  Frost  a  great  many  times 
during  the  last  four  years,  but  I  have  never  seen 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  139 

the  look  in  his  eyes  that  I  saw  to-day  more  than 
once,  and  when  he  was  looking  at  you,  too." 

"  Then  he  is  a  flirt.  Perhaps  he  thinks  that  I 
am  a  green  little  girl  from  the  country,  and  he 
can  amuse  himself  with  me.  Clara,  I  wish  you 
hadn't  put  that  idea  into  my  head." 

"I  didn't ;  I  put  a  very  different  idea  there,  or 
I  tried  to  ;  but  you  wouldn't  harbor  it.  /didn't 
say  hard  things  about  somebody  who  has  just 
given  me  a  perfect  day." 

"  I  didn't  want  to  say  hard  things  till  you  made 
me.  I  didn't  really  think  them.  It  is  just  this 
way,  Clara.  Miss  Frost  really  likes  me,  and  she 
has  been  more  than  good  to  me.  Mr.  Frost  is 
very  devoted  to  his  sister,  and  he  tries  to  be 
especially  nice  to  her  protegee.  This,  I  repeat,  is 
all  there  is  of  it,  and — " 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  '  it  ?  '  " 

"  What  you  have  just  been  talking  of,  of  course. 
Clara,  don't  be  so  hateful.  I  haven't  a  soul  here 
but  you,  and  you  make  me  very  uncomfy." 

Miss  Henshawe  turned  and  smoothed  the  tum- 
bled head.  "  It  shan't  be  made  uncomfortable. 
The  big  man  doesn't  like  it,  and  he  didn't  look 
at  it  as  if  he  wanted  to  say  all  kinds  of  things, 
and  nobody  shall  ever  hint  at  such  a  thing  again." 

"You  are  too  ridiculous,  Clara.  I  don't  know 
why  I  like  you.  But  I  do,  and  I  shall  be  wanting 
to  see  you  in  Macedonia  long  before  you  come." 

"  Good  child.     Is  Mr.  Bamford  there  ?  " 


140  Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist. 

"  I  suppose  so,  yes.     He  always  is.    Why  ?  '* 

"  I  was  wondering  if  he  left  during  the  sum- 
mer?" 

"  No ;  he  and  his  mother  keep  house  in  Mace- 
donia." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  him  this  sum- 
mer?" 

"  Nothing.     Why,  again  ?  " 

"  Oh,  because  I'm  afraid  he'll  make  you  stay 
up  there.  That  man  has  an  awful  will.  If  he 
liked  me  and  I  didn't  like  him,  I  should  be  afraid 
of  him." 

"  I'm  not.  He  hasn't  the  shadow  of  a  claim  on 
me.  If  he  begins  to  take  matters  for  granted, 
and  set  the  Macedonians  to  thinking  we  are  en- 
gaged I'll  make  it  very  plain  that  we  are  not." 

"  Poor  Mr.  Bamford  !  " 

"  No  ;  it's  poor  Nan  Wynkoop.  I  don't  see 
why  he  should  set  his  heart  on  me,  when  there 
are  plenty  of  girls  in  Macedonia  who  would  be 
very  nice  to  him.  I  suppose  I've  got  to  hear  a 
great  deal  of  nonsense  about  woman's  sphere. 
No,  I  won't.  I'm  going  to  be  as  hateful  as  I 
can." 

"  Poor  Mr.  Bamford  !  " 

"  Clara,  you  must  be  in  a  sentimental  mood. 
You  always  are ;  you  must  be  more  sentimental 
than  ever." 

"  I  am,  a  little.  Nannie,  wouldn't  it  be  nice  if 
we  could  go  abroad  this  summer  ?  " 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  141 

"  I  haven't  imagination  enough  to  consider 
such  a  thing.  I  don't  suppose  I'll  be  able  to 
go  for  forty-seven  years.  I  hope  you  will, 
though." 

"  Didn't  Mr.  Frost  tell  you  that  he  wished  you 
were  going?" 

"  Yes.     What  of  it  ?     He  wanted  to  be  polite." 

"  Of  course.  Didn't  we  have  a  nice  day,  Nan? 
Own  up,  now." 

"  Of  course  we  did.  I  told  them  so.  I  hope  I 
know  enough  to  show  that  I  am  grateful  for  my 
mercies." 

"  It  was  nice.  There  was  the  row  on  the  river, 
and  the  lunch  a/  fresco,  and  then  we  all  sketched, 
and  sat  around  and  told  stories  ;  then  we  had  din- 
ner at  that  dear  little  French  restaurant.  O  dear, 
when  shall  we  five  meet  again  ?  Next  fall,  I  sup' 
pose.     Are  you  asleep,  Nan?" 

"Almost.  It  wasn't  polite  of  me,  when  you 
were  talking.  But  I  can  imagine  what  you  were 
saying." 

"  Oh,  you  haven't  lost  much.  It's  time  we  were 
going  to  bed,  Annice  Wynkoop." 

"  So  it  is.  I'm  more  tired  than  if  I  had  painted 
all  morning  and  been  to  Brooklyn  in  the  after- 
noon." 

The  Frosts  were  to  sail  on  Wednesday,  at  three 
o'clock.  Nan  was  coming  up  from  school  at 
noon,  when  she  saw  a  carriage  standing  before 


142  Annicc   Wynkoop^  Artist. 

her  door.  As  she  stepped  into  the  vestibule  she 
ran  against  Mr.  Frost. 

"  Oh,  well  met,  Miss  Wynkoop.  I've  been 
ringing  your  bell  for  the  last  five  minutes.  Jessica 
is  in  the  carriage ;  we  stopped  to  get  you  and 
take  you  to  the  steamer  to  see  us  off.  You'll  go, 
I  hope." 

Miss  Frost  put  her  head  out  of  the  carriage, 
and  added  her  request  to  her  brother's. 

"  Of  course,  I  shall  be  glad  to  go,"  Nan  replied. 
"  ril  run  up  and  leave  my  traps,"  for  she  had  a 
book  and  some  brushes  in  her  hands. 

She  was  only  gone  a  moment,  but  in  that  mo- 
ment she  had  smoothed  the  rebellious  hair, 
changed  her  gloves,  and  brushed  her  dress. 

Miss  Frost  took  her  hand  in  hers,  and  held  it 
for  a  block  or  two  before  releasing  it. 

"  We  were  so  afraid  you  would  be  out,"  she 
said.  "  It  was  stupid  of  me  not  to  think  of  this 
before.  I  wish  you  were  going  with  me,  but  one 
of  these  days  you  shall." 

"  Oh,  that  is  too  much  to  hope  for,  even  for 
such  a  castle-builder  as  I  am,"  said  Nan,  smiling 
back  into  Miss  Frost's  eyes. 

"  '  Hitch  your  wagon  to  a  star,'  "  quoted  Mr. 
Frost.  "  You  have  simply  got  to  study  in  Paris, 
so  jT^ou  may  as  well  get  accustomed  to  the  idea. 
You  see  your  friends  will  insist  on  expecting 
great  things  from  that  palette  of  yours." 

"  It's  a  most  uncomfortable  feeling  to  know 


Annice  Wytikoop,  Artist.  143 

that  one's  friends  are  so  complimentary  that  they 
expect  too  much  of  one,"  said  Nan. 

"  Modesty  is  a  refreshing  spectacle  in  this  de- 
generate age.  Jess,  my  girl,  take  your  last  look 
at  New  York ;  we  are  almost  at  the  wharf." 

"  I  know  it,  I'll  stand  on  the  deck  and  watch 
the  dear  old  city  fade  out  of  sight." 

"  Nonsense  !  You  might  rather  stand  with  me 
in  the  bow  of  the  boat  and  watch  the  old  world 
dawn  on  you.  I  shan't  draw  a  natural  breath  till 
I  see  Paris." 

A  few  moments  later  the  three  stood  on  the 
deck  together.  There  was  plenty  of  time,  and 
as  Nan  had  never  before  been  on  an  ocean-liner, 
Miss  Frost  and  her  brother  showed  her  all  over 
the  ship.  Presently  other  friends  of  Miss  Frost's 
came  on  board  and  she  was  deluged  with  flowers 
and  baskets  of  fruit. 

"And  I  never  so  much  as  brought  you  a  carna- 
tion," said  Nan  to  her  in  a  whisper,  "and  you 
have  done  so  much  for  me.  I  wish  I  had  whole 
bushels  of  sweet  wild  flowers  from  our  meadows 
at  home." 

"  I  would  rather  have  a  bunch  of  flowers  from 
your  meadows  than  these,  they  don't  mean  any- 
thing. These  people  send  them  because  every- 
body sends  flowers  to  everybody  when  they  sail. 
I've  sent  them  myself.  But  your  wild  flowers 
would  be  sent  because  you  loved  me,  I  flatter 
myself." 


144  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

"  I  do,"  said  Nan.  "  I  think  about  you  by  day 
and  dream  about  you  by  night.  You  won't  for- 
get me  while  you  are  away  ?  Whenever  I  hope 
for  any  success  in  my  work  you  are  somehow 
woven  in  with  it.  I  don't  beHeve  I  ever  can  do 
anything  unless  I  am  near  you." 

"  Why,  child,  I  didn't  dream  that  I  was  all  this 
to  you.     You  dear  little  Nan  Wynkoop." 

"  Why  are  you  calling  Miss  Wynkoop  names, 
and  why  do  you  have  tears  in  your  eyes  ?  This 
will  never  do.  I  shan't  take  a  teary  woman  to 
Paris  with  me.  Go  and  speak  to  the  Atkins,  Jess, 
they  have  just  come  on,  and  in  the  mean  time  I'll 
take  Miss  Wynkoop  for  a  promenade,  so  that 
she'll  get  an  idea  what  pacing  a  steamer's  deck  is 
like,  before  she  sails  for  Paris.  We  have  just 
fifteen  minutes  left  before  the  call  to  go  ashore." 

"  Oh,  let  me  say  good-by  to  Miss  Frost  and 
go  now.     I'm  afraid  I  shall  be  left." 

"No;  in  that  case  you  would  be  taken.  If 
you  go  ashore  you'll  be  left.  Don't  worry.  I'll 
see  that  you  get  off  in  time.  Now  we'll  pretend 
we  are  in  mid-ocean,  on  our  way  to  Paris." 

They  walke  d  only  a  few  rods,  however,  then 
they  stood  looking  seaward.  Nan  sniffed  the  salt 
air,  and  felt  adventurous,  as  adventurous  as  she 
did  on  that  spring  morning  when  she  decided  to 
go  to  New  York.  She  would,  she  must  go  to 
Paris.  The  hope  was  worth  living  for ;  mean- 
time,— 


An  nice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  145 

Mr.  Frost's  voice  brought  her  to  herself. 

*'  I  beg  pardon,  Mr.  Frost." 

"  I  was  asking  you  the  name  of  that  town  of 
yours  up  in  the  hills." 

"  Macedonia." 

"  Macedonia.  When  I  was  a  little  fellow  and 
used  to  go  to  Sunday-school,  we  sang  a  tune  begin- 
ning, 'There's  a  cry  from  Macedonia,  come  and  help 
us.'     I  shall  remember  your  town  by  that  tune." 

"  It's  a  great  town,"  said  Nan,  for  the  sake  of 
saying  something. 

"  Would  a  bit  of  Paris  reach  you  safely  if  di- 
rected to  you  at  Macedonia,  N.  Y.?  Say  a  bit  of 
a  sketch  which  might  give  you  some  sort  of  a 
poor  idea  how  Paris  will  look  to  you  by  and  by." 

"  Oh,  yes,  thank  you  very  much.  It  would 
reach  me.  There,  I  must  go !  See,  people  are 
going  ashore." 

"  There  is  still  time,  but  if  you  are  nervous  I'll 
take  you  now." 

"  I  am  a  little  nervous.  Oh,  there  is  Miss 
Frost." 

The  two  women  clasped  each  other,  then  Nan 
went  down  the  gangway,  and  in  a  moment  she  was 
on  the  wharf,  waving  her  hand  to  Miss  Frost.  Just 
then  came  the  call,  "  All  aboard  and  all  ashore." 
Mr.  Frost  shook  hands,  said  his  good  wishes  for 
a  pleasant  summer,  and  disappeared  up  the  gang 
plank.  The  great  ship  started  on  her  way,  and  Nan 
went  home,  seeing  visions  and  dreaming  dreams, 
10 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

■  Nan  had  borne  the  separation  from  home  and 
her  people  very  well,  but  once  on  the  train  she 
could  scarcely  wait  till  the  old  brown  house  was 
reached.  Long  before  the  train  neared  her  sta- 
tion, she  closed  her  bag,  closed  her  book,  but- 
toned her  jacket,  and  sat  ready  to  leave  the  car. 
The  station  lay  about  a  mile  beyond  the  Wyn- 
koop  farm,  and  Nan  flattened  her  nose  against 
the  window  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  thirty-acre  lot, 
as  the  train  skirted  past  it.  The  stone  fence  was 
bordered  with  wild  cherry  trees,  whose  fruit  was 
already  turning  red.  Nan  smiled  as  she  remem- 
bered the  dresses  she  had  torn  and  the  shoes  she 
had  "  scuffed  "  in  climbing  those  trees.  She  could 
not  see  the  house  from  the  train,  but  she  could 
get  a  glimpse  of  the  barn,  and  she  saw  the  cows 
coming  down  the  road  to  be  milked.  "  The  dear 
home,"  sha  said  to  herself,  and  happy  tears  filled 
her  eyes. 

When  the  train  stopped  at  her  station  her 
father  was  there,  standing  by  the  head  of  the  old 
white  horse.  Nan  smiled.  Billy  had  long  ago 
ceased  to  be  able  to  run  away.  There  were  sev- 
eral people  on  the  platform,  whom  Nan  knew,  but 
146 


Annice   Wjnkoop,  Artist.  I47 

she  passed  them  without  recognition,  and  rushed 
up  to  her  father,  throwing  her  arms  around  his 
neck. 

"  It  seems  good  to  see  you,  Nan,  child,"  Mr. 
Wynkoop  said,  "  and  I  declare  you  seem  glad  to 
see  me.  I  didn't  know  but  I  might  be  too  up-coun- 
try for  such  a  citified  young  lady.  Stand  still, 
Billy,  will  you  ?  You  look  taller  than  you  did 
last  fall,  but  aren't  you  a  little  peaked  ?  " 

"  I  am  thin,  but  I'll  soon  get  back  any  flesh  I 
have  lost,  now  that  I  am  home  again."  As  she 
spoke  Nan  put  her  foot  on  the  step  of  the  old 
"  Democrat "  wagon. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Nannie.  Mr.  Bamford  is  here. 
He  came  with  a  fine  rig  from  the  livery  to  get 
you.  I  told  him  that  it  was  all  right,  he  could 
take  you  and  I  would  take  the  trunk." 

"  He  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  Who  wants 
his  fine  rig?  I'm  going  with  you,  of  course.  If 
he  is  anxious  to  take  something  he  can  take  the 
trunk,"  said  Nan,  speaking  with  some  temper. 

"  Ssh !  There  he  comes.  You  haven't  lost 
your  spunk,  I  see."  And  Mr.  Wynkoop  looked 
as  if  he  would  have  been  sorry  had  Nan  come  home 
without  it. 

**  Welcome  home,  Annice  !  "  Mr.  Bamford  was 
going  to  take  both  Nan's  hands,  but  he  got  a  frigid 
shake  from  one.  She  was  angry  at  his  coming  to 
meet  her  and  escort  her  home  in  state.  She  knew 
that   in  Macedonia  it  would  be  equivalent  to  an 


148  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

announcement  of  their  engagement,  and  she  could 
fancy  the  people  looking  from  windows  along  the 
road  and  commenting  upon  them. 

"  You  are  looking  better  than  when  I  saw  you 
in  New  York  last  winter,"  Mr.  Bamford  remarked, 
as  he  and  Nan  stood  together  while  Mr.  Wyn- 
koop was  looking  after  her  trunk.  "  Will  there 
be  room  in  the  wagon  for  both  you  and  your 
trunk?  You  would  better  let  me  drive  you 
home?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  there  is  plenty  of  room,  I  couldn't 
think  of  letting  you  take  so  much  trouble,"  Nan 
replied  in  a  manner  which  would  have  caused  Miss 
Henshawe  to  fall  into  hysterics. 

The  trunk  was  in  the  wagon  at  last,  and  Nan 
climbed  in,  assisted  by  the  professor. 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Bamford.  Come  in  some 
time  when  you  are  passing,  and  I  will  show  you 
my  pictures. 

**  There  !  I  am  even  with  him  for  calling  me 
Annice  so  that  every  one  on  the  platform  could 
hear  it,  and  making  such  a  show  of  coming  after 
me,"  said  Nan  to  herself. 

"  You  were  pretty  hard  on  the  teacher,"  said 
her  father  as  they  drove  away.  "  Get  up,  Billy. 
Ma  and  the  girls  will  be  wondering  where  we  are 
staying." 

"  He  needs  setting  down."  Nan  referred  to 
Mr.  Bamford,  not  to  Billy.  "  It  isn't  his  place  to 
meet  me  and  drive  me  home.     I've  never  given 


Annide  Wynkoopy  Artist.  I40 

him  any  reason  to  think  he  has  any  rights  where 
I  am  concerned.  I  wouldn't  be  placed  in  a  false 
position,  and  that  is  why  I  was  so  short  with 
him." 

Mr.  Wynkoop  turned  and  stared  at  the  young 
woman  by  his  side.  Last  summer  she  would  not 
have  spoken  in  this  decided  fashion.  Then  she 
made  fun  of  the  teacher  and  caricatured  him,  but 
he  had  supposed  *'  it  would  make  a  match."  He 
was  surprised  at  this  turn  of  affairs,  but  he  was 
not  disappointed.  As  he  frequently  told  his  wife, 
he  didn't  want  any  of  his  girls  to  marry  unless 
they  were  sure  they  wanted  to.  One  thing  he 
knew,  Nan  had  changed  during  the  last  year. 

She  had  changed,  and  she  knew  it.  If  she  had 
ever  been  in  doubt  about  her  feeling  toward  Mr. 
Bamford,  she  was  no  longer  undecided.  She  re- 
spected him,  and  if  he  would  have  continued  only 
a  friend  she  would  have  liked  him  ;  but  he  could 
never  be  anything  more.  A  face  came  up  before 
her,  and  crowded  out  the  thought  of  every  other 
man.  It  was  a  face  which  was  hard  to  read,  and 
which  wore  a  dozen  different  expressions  in  an 
hour,  but  it  would  always  be  the  one  face  in  the 
world  to  her.  The  last  few  days  had  wrought  a 
great  change  in  Nan.  She  was  a  woman  now ; 
she  loved.  It  was  an  awful  thing  to  confess  to 
herself  that  she  had  given  her  heart  where  it  had 
not  been  asked.  It  might  mean  a  life  of  crushing 
gorrow,  but  Nan  accepted  it.     Her  life  might  be 


150  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

bare  and  lonely,  but  it  would  be  sweeter  than  If 
she  had  never  had  this  experience.  She  would 
do  her  work  in  the  world  to  the  best  of  her 
ability.  She  would  be  a  good  woman,  and  no 
one  should  know  that  she  had  a  story  locked  in 
her  heart. 

Nan  kept  going  over  this  ground  all  the  way 
home.  Billy  stopped  occasionally  to  browse  at 
the  bushes  along  the  roadside,  so  the  journey 
took  some  time.  Nan  answered  her  father  when 
he  spoke,  but  her  train  of  thought  was  not  inter- 
rupted. 

Charlotte  met  them  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  and 
Nan  got  out  of  the  wagon  and  walked  with  her 
the  rest  of  the  way.  Charlotte  was  evidently  very 
glad  to  see  Nan,  and  she  bore  her  no  ill-will  for 
going  to  New  York.  Emma  Anna  and  her 
mother  stood  at  the  gate.  Nan  kissed  Emma 
Anna  first,  but  she  wound  her  young  arms  about 
her  mother's  neck  and  kept  them  there,  while 
they  said  words  to  each  other  which  the  others  did 
not  hear.  Harriet  was  not  there,  and  Nan  missed 
her.  It  was  the  one  thing  lacking  in  her  home- 
coming. 

After  bathing  her  face  and  brushing  her  hair 
in  her  own  room,  Nan  went  down  to  supper. 
Times  might  be  hard  with  the  Wynkoops,  but 
the  mother  had  furnished  the  equivalent  to  the 
fatted  calf.  Nan  praised  everything,  and  ate 
almost  to  her  mother's  satisfaction. 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  \%X 

It  seemed  to  Nan  that  everyone  in  the  family 
looked  thin  and  worried,  especially  her  mother, 
and  she  asked  if  anything  was  wrong. 

*'  Ma's  been  kind  of  peaked  all  spring,"  Mr. 
Wynkoop  replied,  "but  she'll  be  all  right  now 
that  she's  got  her  baby  back." 

After  supper  Nan  went  out  into  the  tangled 
old  flower  garden.  Nothing  changed  there  from 
year  to  year.  The  myrtle  came  up  every  spring 
and  bordered  the  flower-beds ;  the  purple  fleur- 
de-lys  bloomed  by  the  back  gate,  and  .the  old- 
fashioned  pink  roses  put  forth  their  sweetness 
every  year,  and  the  ribbon-grass  did  its  best  to 
crowd  everything  else  out. 

"  It's  all  in  a  tangle,"  said  her  mother,  who  had 
come  up  behind  her.  "  I'd  have  liked  to  clear  it 
up  before  you  came,  but  I  couldn't  seem  to  find 
the  time." 

"  I  wouldn't  want  it  changed,  mother.  It  looks 
just  right  to  me.  We'll  work  in  it  together  and 
take  out  some  weeds.  I  see  you  are  going  to 
have  plenty  of  nasturtiums  by-and-by.  I  love 
the  dear,  peppery  things.  Oh,  I'm  glad,  glad, 
glad,  that  I'm  going  to  be  home  so  many 
weeks." 

"  I'm  glad  that  you  care  for  your  home,  Nan- 
nie. It's  a  plain  place,  but  I  have  taken  a  great 
deal  of  comfort  here." 

The  air  was  very  sweet  and  fresh,  and  Nan 
was  loath  to  return  to  the  house.     It  had  been 


I52t  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist, 

very  hot  in  the  city  a  few  days  before  she  left, 
and  she  had  longed  for  the  breeze  from  her  own 
hills.  She  walked  on  to  the  barn,  and  then  into 
the  barn-yard,  where  her  father  was  milking.  Her 
mother  went  to  the  house  and  came  back  with  a 
glass,  so  that  Nan  could  have  a  drink  of  warm 
milk.  "  You  will  soon  get  the  roses  back  in 
your  cheeks  if  you  drink  milk  enough,"  she  said. 

Nan  drank  the  milk,  then  she  and  her  mother 
strolled  around  the  garden,  looking  at  the  vege- 
tables, and  talking  over  the  happenings  of  the 
year.  It  began  to  grow  dark,  the  stars  came  out 
one  by  one,  and  the  noises  of  the  night  began  to 
be  heard ;  the  bull-frogs  peeped  in  a  neighboring 
pond. 

Emma  Anna  and  Charlotte  were  reading  by 
the  sitting-room  lamp  when  Nan  went  in,  but 
they  put  their  books  aside 

"  I've  had  a  splendid  walk,"  and  Nan  sank  down 
in  the  depths  of  the  roomy  old  lounge.  "  I'm  a 
regular  country-girl,  and  I'm  glad  of  it.  When  I 
get 'through  studying  I'm  going  to  live  where  I 
can  hear  bull-frogs  and  see  lovely  shadows.  I 
can't  wait  till  morning,  I  want  to  do  things. 
I  feel  very  young  to-night,  and  I  want  to  do  all 
the  nice  things  I  used  to  do.  Is  it  too  late  to 
make  a  willow  whistle?  I  want  to  make  one, 
and  sit  on  the  big  gate-post  and  toot  on  it  and 
scare  old  Billy.  I  want  to  eat  sassafras  and 
birch  and  wintergreen  berries, — anything  Indian 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  I53 

and  woodsy.  I  want  to  make  a  corn-stalk  fiddle, 
and  a  wigwam  out  of  the  whole  stooks  of  corn- 
stalks, and  I  want  a  pumpkin  so  I  can  make  a 
jack-o'-lantern.  I'm  not  sure  of  it  that  I  don't 
want  to  make  mud-pies.  It's  good  to  be  home, 
and  to  be  just  Nan  Wynkoop.  I'm  tired  of  being 
grown-up  Miss  Wynkoop.  Do  you  think  I'm 
crazy,  mother  ?  " 

Mrs.  Wynkoop  leaned  over  from  the  Boston 
rocker  and  patted  the  girl's  shoulder,  and  Mr. 
Wynkoop  put ,  aside  the  county  paper,  and  list- 
ened to  the  •'  youngest,"  as  she  told  of  all  the  ex- 
periences of  the  last  few  months. 

When  the  clock  struck  nine  Mrs.  Wynkoop 
sent  Nan  to  bed.  Charlotte  came  to  her  door 
and  insisted  on  unpacking  her  trunk.  This  was 
almost  too  much  for  Nan ;  Charlotte  had  always 
been  so  dignified,  and  had  treated  Nan  like  a 
child.  Charlotte  handled  Nan's  canvases  with 
much  respect,  and  said  she  was  anxious  to  see  the 
pictures  by  daylight.  When  the  trunk  was  empty 
she  said  good-night,  but  came  back  to  add  that 
she  was  glad  that  Nan  was  home. 

Nan  opened  the  little  white  bed,  meaning  to 
fall  asleep  at  once.  But  instead  she  opened  a 
portfolio,  and  took  from  it  a  parcel,  carefully 
wrapped  and  sealed.  On  it  was  written  :  "  May 
12,  189 — .     Not  to  be  opened  for  one  year." 

"  I'll  open  it  just  this  once,  and  seal  it  again," 
Nan  said,  apologizing  to  herself.     "After  to-night 


154  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

I   will  be   very   good   and   put  all  this  behind 
me. 

It  was  a  portrait,  done  from  memory,  but  a 
very  faithful  likeness  of  the  face  which  had 
haunted  Nan  on  the  drive  home. 

"  I*  m  silly ;  I  know  I  am  silly ;  but  he  will 
never  know,  and  it  makes  me  very  happy  to  have 
the  picture.  But  I  will  put  it  away  for  a  whole 
year,  and  I'll  try  to  get  over — this.  I'll  know  by 
the  time  the  year  is  over  whether  I  can  be  cured 
or  not." 

Nan  sealed  the  parcel  and  put  it  in  the  bottom 
of  her  trunk.  I  am  afraid  that  she  sat  for  a  long 
time  at  the  window  when  she  should  have  been 
asleep.  To  sit  in  the  moonlight  and  think  is  not 
the  surest  way  to  teach  oneself  to  forget  things 
which  should  be  forgotten.  But  Nan  was  not  a 
perfectly  sensible  3'^oung  woman.  The  model 
young  woman  would  never  have  painted  the  por- 
trait in  the  sealed  parcel. 

Nan  awoke  in  the  morning  with  a  sense  of  loss 
which  surprised  herself.  Her  dreams  had  been  of 
painting  great  pictures,  and  of  straying  through 
long  galleries  lined  with  paintings.  She  awoke 
to  find  herself  in  her  little  green-and-white  room, 
and  to  realize  that  toil  must  come  before  any 
triumph  could  be  possible.  She  gave  herself  a 
mental  shake,  and  she  soon  had  her  bearings. 

The  day  was  bright  and  sunny,  and  she  felt  her 
spirits  quicken.     It  was  good  to  be  alive ;  work 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  155 

was  good  for*  woman  as  well  as  for  man.  She 
was  glad  that  so  much  hard  toil  lay  ahead  of  her. 

No  one  but  Mrs.  Wynkoop  was  downstairs, 
and  she  was  making  biscuits  for  breakfast.  She 
was  surprised  to  see  Nan  down  so  early,  and 
anxiously  inquired  if  she  had  slept  well.  Nan 
went  through  the  rooms,  opening  windows,  and 
letting  in  the  sunshine.  Emma  Anna  came  down 
presently,  and  laid  the  table  for  breakfast,  while 
Charlotte  tied  her  head  up  in  a  gingham  apron, 
and  swept  the  sitting-room.  The  biscuits  were 
done  by  the  time  Mr.  Wynkoop  had  milked,  and 
Nan  went  to  call  him  to  breakfast. 

After  the  meal  the  family  demanded  the  pic- 
tures, and  Nan  unpacked  them  and  set  them 
around  the  room.  She  felt  that  her  people  were 
disappointed.  All  the  pictures  were  portraits, 
which  seemed  to  surprise  Mr.  Wynkoop,  and  he 
asked  if  she  had  painted  any  scenery.  Mrs.  Wyn- 
koop remarked  that  no  doubt  the  pictures  were 
well  painted,  but  the  models  must  have  been  very 
plain.  She  wished  she  had  a  landscape  to  hang 
in  the  parlor,  and  if  Nan  ever  painted  any  fruit- 
pieces  she  would  like  one  for  the  dining-room. 
Anna  Raymond  had  a  fruit-piece,  with  the  most 
perfect  pears  and  grapes,  and  she  couldn't  begin 
to  paint  as  well  as  Nan. 

Nan  resolved  that  the  first  thing  she  painted 
would  be  a  fruit-piece  to  hang  in  the  parlor.  She 
knew  that  she  had  made  great  improvement  dur- 


156  Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist. 

ing  the  year,  yet  she  could  understand  the  disap. 
pointment  of  her  father  and  mother.  Harriet 
would  see  the  improvement,  and  Nan  felt  that  she 
could  not  wait  till  she  came. 

She  came  in  the  afternoon,  and  Nan  met  her 
long  before  she  reached  home.  They  sat  down 
by  the  roadside  and  talked  till  a  shower  came  up 
and  drove  them  home. 

Nan  took  Harriet  up  to  her  little  room,  where 
she  had  shown  her  pictures  on  the  day  when  she 
decided  to  go  to  New  York.  There  were  better 
pictures  now,  and  Harriet  was  quick  to  see  the 
change. 

"  Oh,  Harriet,  you  are  such  a  comfort  to  me. 
The  others  are  disappointed  ;  they  expected  pic- 
tures which  they  could  show  to  the  neighbors  and 
hang  in  the  parlor,  and  instead  they  are  negro 
men  and  Italian  boys  and  homely  women,  as  I 
overheard  mother  saying  to  Emma  Anna.  I  was 
so  proud  of  the  way  I  painted  the  skin  of  that 
colored  man,  and  I  got  such  a  splendid  criticism 
on  it.  The  instructor  held  it  up  before  the  class 
and  said  it  was  excellent.  I  was  as  proud  as  a 
peacock,  and  all  the  girls  were  jealous.  But  I  am 
sorry  that  mother  is  disappointed,  and  I  wish  I 
had  painted  some  plaques  with  flowers  for  her 
to  show  to  the  neighbors." 

"  I  understand  you,  and  I  understand  father  and 
mother,"  assented  Harriet.  "  They  are  just  a 
little  proud  of  the  daughter  who  has  been  study- 


Annice   Wynkoop^  Artist.  157 

ing  art  in  New  York,  and  they  want  to  show  your 
work  when  people  come  in.  Mother  has  been 
saying  that  she  hoped  you  would  paint  a  fruit- 
piece  to  hang  in  the  dining-room." 

"  I  wish  you  had  told  me." 

"  I  wish  I  had,  but  I  didn't  suppose  you  would 
care  so  much  about  her  disappointment." 

"  Harrie  !    Have  I  been  so  selfish  ?  " 

"  No  ;  but  I  knew  you  were  absorbed  in  your 
work.    You  can  paint  something  for  mother  now." 

"  I  will,  I'll  paint  a  fruit-piece  at  once.  There 
is  nothing  to  paint  yet  but  cherries,  but  I'll  do 
peaches  and  grapes  later.  I'll  do  a  great  big  pic- 
ture, and  she  shall  have  any  kind  of  fruit  that 
grows  if  she  likes.  Dear  mother !  Harriet,  have 
you  noticed  how  worried  they  all  look  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  have  seen  no  change.  Perhaps  I 
wouldn't  notice  it,  for  I  see  them  every  week. 
No  one  is  ill,  but  they  all  are  more  or  less  poorly, 
as  father  says.  Every  one  of  us  would  look  and 
feel  better  if  our  prospects  were  brighter." 

"  It  would  encourage  them  if  I  took  the  Pine 
Ridge  school,  I  know." 

"  No,  Nannie  ;  that  needn't  be.  It  is  an  un- 
necessary sacrifice.  You  must  go  back  to  New 
York.  I  have  set  my  heart  on  that.  You  are  the 
only  one  in  the  family  who  has  any  talent,  and 
we  must  not  tie  your  hands.  It's  an  awful  thing 
to  want  to  express  oneself  and  not  to  be  able,  to 
have  something  crying  out  within  one  to  be  said 


158  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

and  done,  and  to  have  no  way  to  say  or  do  it.  I 
have  felt  that  for  ten  years,  but  I  can't  write  or 
paint  or  make  a  statue.  I  have  the  creative  in- 
stinct, and  no  means  of  expressing  myself.  You 
have  both,  and  you  shall  learn  to  express  your- 
self. It  shall  be  my  one  luxury  to  help  you  do 
this.  I  have  been  corresponding  with  Miss 
Frost,  and  I  am  satisfied  that  any  money  I 
invest  in  you  will  bring  me  a  good  rate  of  inter- 
est. I  stood  back  this  year  and  left  you  to  help 
yourself,  because  I  wanted  to  see  if  you  loved 
your  art  enough  to  suffer  for  it.  I  think  you  do. 
So  you  must  go  back.  We  shall  do  very  well 
here  at  home,  and  you  must  not  worry.  Per- 
haps, by  and  by,  you  may  be  able  to  help  us 
more  than  you  could  now,  and  with  much  less 
sacrifice  to  yourself.  So  rest  this  summer  and 
get  all  your  strength  back,  so  you  will  be  ready 
for  next  year's  work." 

"  Harriet,  you  are  the  soul  of  generosity.  I'll 
go  back  very  gladly,  but  I  can't  let  you  pay  all 
my  expenses.  I  can  do  a  great  deal  for  myself, 
and  I  shall  let  you  make  up  what  I  lack.  Even 
that  seems  too  much  to  take.  You  have  nothing 
in  your  life  but  hard  work,  and  you  should  use 
your  money  to  bring  some  brightness  to  yourself." 

"  I'll  have  the  brightness  when  you  are  a  suc- 
cessful artist.  I  talk  this  over  with  you  at  once, 
for  I  want  you  to  have  your  mind  at  rest.  You 
look  tired,  and  I  hope  you'll  do  nothing  but  live 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  159 

out  of  doors  and  be  lazy  till  you  are  sure  you  are 
entirely  rested.  I'm  glad  to  have  you  at  home 
once  more,  pussy ; "  and  Harriet  kissed  Nan 
good-night  in  a  shamefaced  way.  The  Wyn- 
koop family  had  a  terror  of  any  demonstration. 

Nan  began  the  "  fruit-piece  "  at  once,  and  it 
was  soon  hanging  on  the  dining-room  wall.  This, 
with  two  "  flower-pieces,"  which  she  presented  to 
Emma  Anna  and  Charlotte,  were  exhibited  to 
the  neighbors  by  her  family  as  the  fruit  of  her 
winter's  work  in  New  York. 

These  visits  of  the  neighbors  were  a  great  trial 
to  Nan.  They  presumed  that  of  course  she 
would  stay  at  home  and  teach.  Several  girls 
wished  to  take  painting  lessons,  and  no  doubt 
she  could  *'  get  up  "  a  class.  Harriet  gave  out  at 
once  that  Nan  was  going  back  to  New  York  in 
September,  and  everybody  wondered  how  Har- 
riet could  afford  it.  It  was  understood  that  Nan 
must  have  used  all  of  her  Aunt  Annice's  money, 
"  board  was  so  high  in  New  York,  and  paints  cost 
considerable." 

The  paintings  of  fruit  and  flowers  were  very 
much  admired,  and,  toNan's  surprise,  she  had  sev- 
eral orders  for  similar  pictures.  This  work  brought 
her  quite  a  little  revenue,  which  she  hoarded 
up  toward  next  year's  expenses.  She  could 
paint  a  picture  in  a  little  while,  and  she  worked 
at  fruit  and  flowers  when  she  was  in  no  mood  to 
do  what  she  called  legitimate  painting. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

Nan  had  been  at  home  several  days  before 
Mr.  Bamford  called.  He  met  her  with  a  some- 
what constrained  manner,  and  he  seemed  ill  at 
ease.  Nan  was  sorry  that  she  had  been  so  short 
to  him  on  the  day  of  her  return,  and  she  tried  to 
make  amends  by  being  very  pleasant  now. 
Naturally,  she  talked  of  her  winter's  work,  and 
when  Mr.  Bamford  asked  to  see  her  pictures  she 
brought  some  of  them  down. 

"  Don't  you  think  I  have  improved  ?  I  am  not 
asking  this  because  I  am  vain,  but  I  have  worked 
very  hard,  and  I  hope  there  is  improvement. 
You  are  not  like  the  neighbors  around  here,  who 
call  a  spray  of  golden  rod  on  a  panel  of  red  plush 
a  work  of  art." 

"  There  is  no  doubt  that  there  is  much  im- 
provement. You  are  all  artist.  As  for  me,  I  am 
only  a  man,  and  I  can't  find  it  in  my  heart  to  be 
glad.  I  thought  perhaps  this  year  would  prove 
to  you  that  you  had  no  particular  talent  for 
painting,  and  you  would  be  willing  to  come  home 
and  be  a  woman  instead  of  an  artist.  The  world 
needs  more  women  ;  it  can  do  very  well  without 
artists.  I  hoped — I  must  own  that  I  hoped — 
i6o 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  i6l 

you  would  not  succeed.  But  you  have,  and  your 
art  is  all  in  all  to  you.  I  can  see  it  in  your 
eyes.  You  are  changed,  and  I  love  you  better 
than  ever,  Annice." 

"  Don't,  Mr.  Bamford,  please  don't  talk  in  this 
way.  Let  us  be  friends  as  we  used  to  be.  When 
you  look  so  distressed  I  feel  that  I  have  wronged 
you.  And  yet,  I  can't  see  how  I  have  done 
anything  wrong.  Last  spring,  when  I  first 
began  to  be  sure  that  you  were  fond  of  me,  I 
tried  to  show  you  that  I  did  not  return  your 
feeling." 

"  You  are  not  to  blame,  Annice.  You  need  not 
be  pained  because  of  anything  you  have  done. 
Perhaps  I  have  hurt  my  own  cause  by  pressing 
my  suit  too  soon.     If  I  had  waited " 

*'  It  would  not  have  made  any  difference,"  said 
Nan,  speaking  kindly,  but  firmly.  "  I  am  sorry, 
but  this  is  the  truth.  Really,  Mr.  Bamford,  you 
think  too  much  of  me.  You  are  worthy  of  a 
better  wife  than  I  could  make." 

•*  I  suppose  I  must  give  you  up.  I  felt  the 
moment  I  saw  you  that  I  had  lost  ground.  You 
were  not  so  sure  of  your  feelings  when  I  saw  you 
last  winter,  were  you  ?" 

"  No  ;  I  was  not  so  sure." 

"  I    knew   it.     Some   one   has   come   between 

us.      Is  it  that  long-haired  artist  I   met  in  the 

museum  ?" 

Nan  froze  instantly.     "  That  long-haired  artist, 
II 


l62  Annice  Wy^ikoop,  Artist. 

as  you  call  him,  is  nothing  to  me,  nor  has  he  any 
desire  to  be  more  than  a  friend.  Nothing,  no  one 
has  come  between  us,  Mr.  Bam  ford  ;  we  never 
were  anything  to  each  other." 

"  If  you  had  never  gone  away  you  might  have 
learned  to  love  me.     Is  it  not  so?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  might  have  thought  I  did. 
I  have  learned  much  beside  painting ;  I  under- 
stand myself  better  than  I  did.  In  all  proba- 
bility I  shall  never  marry ;  I  shall  live  for  my 
work.  I  don't  say  this  because  I  mean  to  sacrifice 
life  for  art,  but  I  cannot  explain.  You  are  a  good 
man,  Mr.  Bamford,  and  you  deserve  to  be  happy. 
Forget  me  and  find  a  better  woman  than  I  shall 
ever  be." 

"  No ;  I  cannot  do  that.  I  shall  hope  against 
hope.  You  are  not  to  blame  because  I  choose  to 
wait.  It  is  my  own  fault  if  I'm  disappointed  at 
last.  I  can't  give  you  up.  Nan.  I  loved  you 
when  I  first  saw  you  in  my  classes,  and  I  thought 
what  a  lovely  woman  you'd  make  in  a  few  years. 
Since  then  I  have  had  no  plans,  no  hopes,  which 
did  not  include  you.  But  courage,  Alan  Bam- 
ford, it  may  be  yet.  As  I  said,  I  shall  wait  and 
hope." 

"  You  are  very  foolish  to  do  so,  and  I  have 
told  you  frankly  that  I  shall  not  change.  It 
doesn't  make  me  feel  very  comfortable." 

"  Ah,  are  you  afraid  of  me  ?  Do  you  fear  that 
I  shall  yet  win  the  day  ?  " 


Annice   WfnkooJ>,  Artist.  163 

"  Not  in  the  least,  Mr.  Bamford.  I  told  you 
that  I  understand  myself." 

"  It's  the  jsett  geist — the  spirit  of  the  times," 
said  Mr.  Bamford,  taking  a  new  tack.  "  It's  in 
the  air,  a  revolt  from  the  old  established  condi- 
tions. Men  and  women  were  created  to  love  and 
marry,  but  nowadays  women  must  go  out  into 
the  world  and  win  name  and  fame  for  them- 
selves. They  would  be  much  happier  by  their 
own  firesides." 

Nan  flared  up.  *'  Don't  make  me  angry,  Mr. 
Bamford.  I  have  heard  all  this  before;  it  sounds 
very  familiar.  Who  is  the  better  judge  of  what 
a  woman  needs,  she  herself,  or  some  man  who 
does  not  understand  a  woman  ?  There  is  no  re- 
volt against  marriage,  there  is  no  new  woman, 
but  women  are  more  in  earnest,  and  they  think 
twice  before  accepting  marriage  as  the  only  open 
door.  As  for  fame — fiddlesticks  !  I  am  not  after 
fame.  I  believe  that  God  has  given  me  a  talent, 
and  I  mean  to  cultivate  it.  This  is  my  duty,  till 
some  other  duty  shows  itself  to  be  nearer." 

"  Would  you  marry  a  man  if  you  loved  him  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  would  if  he  were  worth  loving." 

"  Wouldn't  you  put  your  art  before  him  and 
sacrifice  him  ?" 

"  No ;  if  I  loved  a  man  I  should  probably  be 
aware  of  that  fact.  If  there  is  such  a  man  in  the 
world  to-day  he  may  trust  me  to  do  my  duty  to 
him  when  the  time  comes." 


164  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

Nan  was  getting  very  tired  of  this.  She  moved 
over  to  the  window,  and  drew  in  a  branch  of  the 
Japanese  honeysuckle,  burying  her  face  in  its 
sweetness.  She  walked  over  to  the  old  piano,  and 
played  a  few  tinkling  notes  as  her  hands  dropped 
on  the  yellow  keys.  Mr.  Bamford  sat  bolt-upright 
on  the  horsehair  sofa,  and,  as  he  showed  no  sign 
of  departing,  Nan  essayed  to  introduce  a  new 
topic  of  conversation. 

But  it  was  of  no  avail.  Whether  she  talked  of 
the  magazine  club,  or  the  church  choir,  or  the  new 
assistant  who  was  to  be  in  the  high  school  in  the 
fall,  Mr.  Bamford  answered  only  in  monosyllables. 
Harriet  came  downstairs,  and  Nan  made  such  a 
peremptory  sign  to  her  through  the  open  door,  that 
she  came  in. 

Mr.  Bamford  unbent,  and  deigned  to  enter  into 
conversation.  He  gave  Harriet  a  valuable  list  of 
books  on  sociology  for  the  library  committee  to 
consider,  and  he  discoursed  cheerfully  upon  the 
prospects  of  a  new  organ  in  the  church.  The 
evening  ended  by  duets  between  Harriet  and  Mr. 
Bamford.  Nan  did  not  sing,  but  she  sat  and  wove 
quite  a  little  romance  about  Harriet  and  the 
teacher.  It  would  be  a  most  sensible  match, 
for  he  was  much  nearer  Harriet's  age  than  her 
own. 

She  suggested  this  to  Harriet  after  Mr.  Bam- 
ford had  gone.  The  two  girls  strolled  out  to  the 
hay  field  and  sat  down  in  the  fragrant  hay.     Har- 


Annice  Wynkoopy  Artist.  165 

riet  laughed  as  if  the  idea  were  ridiculous,  and 
settled  herself  comfortably  in  the  hay. 

"  Why  not,  Harrie  ?  He  is  really  very  nice,  and 
he  would  make  a  good  husband." 

"  Marry  him  yourself.  Nan.  You  have  the 
opportunity,  and  I  haven't.  Not  that  I  want  it," 
she  added. 

"  It  would  be  an  excellent  match,"  Nan  went 
on.  "  He  really  is  too  good  for  me,  and  that  makes 
him  almost  good  enough  for  you.  I  think  he 
would  make  an  acceptable  brother-in-law." 

"  Really,  Nan,  you  are  too  kind  and  generous. 
I  know  he  would  be  ever  so  much  obliged  to  you 
if  he  knew  your  plans." 

"  He  might  well  be.  You  know  a  great  deal 
more  than  I  do.  You  play  and  sing,  and  I  scarce- 
ly know  one  tune  from  another.  I  would  advise 
you  to  be  nice  to  him,  Harrie." 

"  Are  you  going  to  keep  on  with  that  idea  ?  I 
might  get  enough  of  it  after  an  hour  or  two.  See 
if  that  will  extinguish  you."  And  Harriet  got 
up  and  covered  Nan  with  an  armful  of  hay. 

"  Thank  you,  Harriet.  It  is  very  sweet.  Oh, 
what  wouldn't  some  of  those  poor  girls  in  New 
York  give  for  the  chance  of  being  in  a  hay  field 
on  a  July  evening,  watching  the  dearest  little 
moon  in  the  world  rise  over  the  tops  of  the  trees." 

"  Be  careful,  or  you'll  paint  a  landscape  this 
time." 

Nan  laughed,  and  brushed  the  hay  away.     "  It's 


1 66  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

glorious  out  here.  Why  didn't  we  bring  Emma 
Anna  and  Chariotte  ?  " 

"  They  wouldn't  come.  They  think,  if  they, 
know  where  we  are,  that  we  are  wasting  our 
time." 

"  Yes,  of  course,  I  can  imagine  what  they  are 
doing.  Charlotte  is  reading  something  improving 
and  wooden,  like  Gibbon's  Rome.  She  was  half 
way  through  when  I  came  home.  Emma  Anna 
is  knitting  on  that  very  florid  afghan  and  reading 
the  Delineator  at  the  same  time.  Mother  prob- 
ably sits  in  the  Boston  rocker  too  tired  to  do 
more  than  sigh, '  Dear  me.'  Father,  it  is  safe  to  say, 
sits  in  the  back  door ;  he  is  the  most  sensible  one 
of  the  lot.  Why  don't  they  all  go  and  sit  in  the 
porch,  since  they  won't  come  down  to  the  hay 
field.  How  do  you  like  that  ?  "  and  Nan  buried 
Harriet  in  the  fragrant  hay. 

"  It's  absolutely  blissful.  I  shall  be  asleep  in 
two  moments  if  you  don't  talk  to  me." 

"  What  shall  I  talk  about,  the  professor  ?  " 

"No.  Nannie,  have  you  a  beau  in  New  York? 
That  is  the  proper  word  according  to  the  Mace- 
donian dictionary." 

"No,  I  haven't.     Why?" 

"  Oh,  I  was  just  wondering.  I  heard  Emma 
Anna  and  Charlotte  discussing  the  possibility. 
Their  reasons  were  that  the  professor  had  not 
been  here  much,  and  you  received  letters  in  '  big 
handwriting  *  from  New  York." 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  167 

"  The  big  handwriting  is  Clara  Henshawe's. 
No,  there  is  no  beau.  Probably  the  postmaster's 
daughter  has  been  wondering.  I  told  Clara  how 
curious  she  was,  and  it  amused  her  very  much. 
So  now  she  sends  me  two  postal  cards  every  week, 
written  in  French.  On  the  last  one  she  suggested 
that  I  loan  the  postmaster's  daughter  a  French 
dictionary.  You'd  find  Clara  very  amusing, 
Harriet." 

"  She  is  coming,  isn't  she  ? "  asked  Harriet 
sleepily. 

'•  Yes  ;  in  August.  I  can  imagine  how  she  will 
affect  Emma  Anna  and  Charlotte ;  but  she  isn't 
such  a  goose  as  she  seems  on  first  acquaintance. 
Are  you  asleep  ?" 

"  Almost.  I  suppose  we  ought  to  go  in. 
Charlotte  must  have  read  twenty  pages  of  Gibbon, 
and  Emma  Anna  has  made  a  green  and  purple 
and  rose-colored  square  for  the  afghan.  They 
are  probably  waiting  for  us  to  come  in  so  they 
can  lock  up  the  house.  It's  a  shame  to  go  in,  for 
it  is  only  ten." 

"  Poor  things !  I  wish  they  could  get  more  out 
of  life,"  said  Nan.  "  I've  lost  every  hairpin  but 
one.  Some  cow  will  find  them  in  her  hay  next 
winter." 

Harriet  and  Nan  stopped  at  the  well  for  a  drink. 
Nan  let  the  bucket  down  to  the  bottom  of  the 
well,  and  when  the  water  came  up  it  was  cold  as 
if  it  had  been  iced.     "  It's  better  than  soda  from 


1 68  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

the  corner  drugstore,"  said  Nan  appreciatively. 
"  I'll  get  a  pitcher  and  take  some  in.  Father 
always  finishes  up  with  a  visit  to  the  well,  and  I'll 
save  him  the  trouble." 

As  Harriet  said,  the  afghan  and  Gibbon  were  put 
away,  and  Emma  Anna  was  locking  the  front  door 
and  the  parlor  windows,  while  Charlotte  wound 
the  clocks.  Mrs.  Wynkoop  had  gone  up-stairs, 
tired  with  jelly-making  and  ironing. 

"  Didn't  you  get  cold  sitting  out  in  the  hay 
field?  "  asked  Emma  Anna  of  Nan. 

"No;  it  was  delightful  out  there.  You  should 
have  come  with  us.  I  don't  see  why  you  stay  in 
the  house  so  much.  I  despise  a  house  in  summer. 
You  work  too  hard,  Emma  Anna.  Don't  you 
ever  take  a  play-spell  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  Nan.  I  never  work  evenings,  un- 
less I  am  very  much  rushed.  I  rest  working  on 
my  afghan." 

"  Oh,"  said  Nan.  "  I  suppose  the  afghan  is  to 
her  the  same  as  a  picture  is  to  me,"  she  said,  going 
into  Harriet's  room.  "  I  don't  see  how  any  one 
who  has  Emma  Anna's  taste  about  dressmaking 
can  concoct  such  a  piece  of  villainy  as  that  afghan. 
What  will  she  do  with  it  when  it  is  done  ?  " 

"  Put  it  over  the  parlor  sofa,  I  suppose,"  said 
Harriet  wickedly.  "  It's  shabby  enough  to  need 
it." 

"That  parlor  is  dreadful,  Harrie.  I'm  an  un- 
grateful wretch  to  say  anything,  but  it  drives  me 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  169 

almost  to  desperation.  It  always  did,  but  it 
looks  even  worse  than  ever.  What  did  mother 
buy  that  horse-hair  furniture  y<?r  f  " 

"  I  don't  know.  It  was  very  fine  when  she  got 
it,  I  dare  say.  I  know  it's  dreadful,  Nan.  It 
doesn't  need  the  artist's  eye  to  see  that.  But  we 
can't  do  anything  about  it.  We  simply  can't  af- 
ford anything  new,  and  if  we  could  I  wouldn't 
break  mother's  heart  by  telling  her  that  this  isn't 
perfectly  desirable." 

"  No,  I  wouldn't  either.  I  hadn't  thought  of  it 
from  her  point  of  view.  But  to  sit  in  that  room 
with  its  horse-hair  furniture  and  hideous  carpet 
and  marble-topped  table,  and  hear  Mr.  Bamford 
discourse  on  woman's  sphere,  is  *  worse  than  seven 
times  eight  and  seven  times  seven.'" 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  said  Harriet,  letting  down  a 
quantity  of  black  hair. 

"  Why,  don't  you  know  Marjorie  Fleming  ?  She 
said  that  'the  most  Devilish  thing  is  seven  times 
seven  and  eight  times  eight.  It  is  what  nature 
itself  can't  endure.'  Clara  is  always  saying  it, 
and  I  know  she  will  want  to  say  it  when  she  sees 
our  parlor.  I  can  fancy  her  standing  before 
those  two  vases  and  letting  her  vocabulary  run 
away  with  her.  Of  course  she  can't  say  any- 
thing while  she  is  here,  but  she  will  suffer  all  the 
more.  I'll  keep  her  in  the  sitting-room  when  we 
are  in  the  house." 

"  The   parlor  never  seems  to   strike   the  pro- 


I/O  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

fessor  unpleasantly.  I  suppose  he  would  cheer- 
fully sit  there  every  evening  if  you  would  let 
him." 

"  There  you  go,  harking  back  to  the  professor 
again.  You  are  determined  to  have  him  in  the 
family,  I  see.     Marry  him  yoursel',  lassie." 

"All  joking  aside,  Nan,  I  really  wonder  if  you 
are  very  sure  that  you  are  not  making  a  mistake. 
He  is  a  good  man,  and  his  like  is  not  met  every 
day." 

"  I  am  very  sure,  oh,  prudent  Harriet.  Seri- 
ously, I  am  very  sure  that  I  know  I  am  not  mak- 
ing a  mistake,  and  I  know  why  I  am  sure.  Does 
that  satisfy  you  ?  " 

"  It  ought  to,  surely.  I'll  drop  the  matter, 
Nan.     I  think  you  know  your  own  mind." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Nan  found  difficulty  in  getting  suitable  models 
for  her  work.  Her  own  family  was  too  busy  to 
sit  for  her,  and  she  felt  that  the  neighbors  thought 
her  portraits  of  little  importance  compared  to  her 
pictures  of  roses  and  hollyhocks.  Occasionally 
she  borrowed  a  child  long  enough  to  get  a  satis- 
factory portrait,  but  children  were  shy  of  the 
little  attic  studio.  Nan  had  always  been  a  favorite 
with  small  folk,  but  her  year  in  New  York,  and 
the  fact  that  she  had  pictures  of  "  darkies  and 
Eyetalians,"  invested  her  with  a  sort  of  mystery 
and  dread. 

Grandma  Wynkoop  came  early  in  July,  and 

Nan  immediately  decided  that  here  was  a  model 

to  be  thankful  for.     Grandma  called  the  whole 

affair  "  fol-de-rol,"  and  said  she  would  rather  have 

a  good    photograph  any   day  than   a  "  smelly  " 

oil-painting.      Still,  she  agreed  to  sit  to  Nan.     If 

she   would    spend    money    on    such   things,  she 

oughtn't  to  lose  what  she  had  learned.    So,  every 

morning  the  old  lady  climbed  to  the  studio  and 

let  Nan  pose  her.     At  first,  they  disagreed  about 

the  dress.     Nan  wanted  to  drape  her  in  a  black 

lace  shawl,  and  arrange  her  hair  in  puffs  at  the 
171 


172  Annice  Wynkoop^  Artiste 

temples.  But  Grandma  insisted  on  being  "  taken  '* 
in  her  new  silk  dress,  and  she  also  insisted  on 
wearing  her  false  front.  Nan  was  in  despair. 
She  abominated  the  new  silk  dress.  Grandma 
had  a  gay  eye,  and  her  dress  was  of  purple,  with 
black  polka  dots.  The  false  front,  which  was 
her  especial  pride,  and  which  she  had  "just  paid 
five  dollars  for,"  transformed  the  really  hand- 
some old  lady,  giving  her  a  vicious  expression. 
"  Grandma,"  pleaded  poor  Nan,  "  you  are  so  much 
handsomer  in  black  lace  and  with  your  own  white 
hair.  Let  me  paint  you  as  you  are,  not  as  that 
false  front  makes  you  look." 

But  the  old  lady  was  firm.  She  would  be 
taken  as  she  wished  to  be  taken,  or  not  at  all. 
She  didn't  care  to  set  up-garret  like  a  wooden 
image,  anyway.  A  photograph  was  a  good  deal 
quicker,  and  no  doubt  it  would  be  a  sight  more 
like  her. 

Nan  began  to  weaken.  Models  were  scarcer 
than  ever,  and  grandma  must  be  held  at  any 
price.  So  she  effected  a  compromise  with  the 
old  lady.  She  would  paint  one  picture,  just  as 
she  wished,  polka  dot  silk  and  all,  if  grandma 
would  let  her  paint  her  a  second  time  draped  in 
the  lace  mantle,  and  wearing  her  own  hair,  and 
an  ancestral  tortoise-shell  comb.  Mrs.  Wynkoop 
yielded  after  Nan  had  solemnly  promised  that 
she  would  never  show  the  second  picture  to  any- 
one in  Macedonia. 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  173 

This  settled,  Nan  began  work  in  earnest.  But 
it  was  not  all  smooth  sailing,  by  any  means.  She 
would  get  grandma  posed  just  as  she  wanted  her, 
when  she  would  jump  up  and  fly  to  the  window, 
or  insist  that  she  must  go  downstairs  and  get  a 
drink.  Nan  would  implore  her  to  let  her  go  for 
the  water,  but  then  the  old  lady  would  invent 
some  other  excuse  to  get  back  to  the  sitting- 
room,  where  Emma  Anna  sat  sewing.  She  liked 
to  know  just  what  everybody  in  the  town  had  to 
wear,  and  she  always  enjoyed  being  with  Emma 
Anna. 

Nan  found  that  the  best  way  to  keep  her  quiet 
was  to  talk  to  her,  so  she  spun  long  yarns  about 
her  life  in  New  York  and  the  people  she  had  met. 
These  narratives  did  not  proceed  very  rapidly,  for 
grandma  always  insisted  upon  knowing  the  his- 
tory of  every  person  Nan  mentioned.  "  What 
are  his  or  her  circumstances?  "  was  the  first  ques- 
tion. There  was  much  similarity  about  the  cir- 
cumstances of  Nan's  friends,  for  they  were  all 
self-supporting  women,  and  grandma  remarked 
that  New  York  must  be  full  of  women  trying  to 
do  men's  work. 

Grandma  did  not  hold  with  the  "  new  woman," 
if  there  is  such  a  person,  and  she  was  orthodox 
and  conservative  enough  in  her  views  to  delight 
even  Mr.  Bam  ford.  She  had  as  little  regard  for 
a  man  who  did  a  woman's  work  as  for  a  mascu- 
line woman,  and  she  asked  a  great  many  ques- 


174  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

tions  about  men  who  made  pictures  for  their 
living.  When  Nan  first  mentioned  Mr.  Parrish's 
name  she  inquired  if  he  was  a  beau  of  hers.  Nan 
promptly  repudiated  such  an  idea,  and  then 
grandma  turned  her  head,  spoiling  the  pose,  to 
ask  if  Nan  had  a  beau  in  New  York. 

"No,"  said  Nan,  laughing.  "  Grandma,  things 
are  different  from  what  they  were  when  you  were 
young.  Young  inen  and  young  women  work  and 
have  good  times  together,  and  they  don't  think 
of  falling  in  love." 

''  Humph  !     I  know  they  are  a  flirtatious  lot !  " 

"  No,  it  is  not  flirting  ;  it's "  Nan  was  going 

to  say  camaraderie,  but  she  remembered  that 
grandma  wouldn't  understand  it,  so  she  substi- 
tuted friendliness. 

"  Fiddlesticks  !  "  said  the  old  lady.  "  That's 
what  I  call  it.  The  world  will  be  full  of  old 
maids  and  old  bachelors  if  this  friendliness  keeps 
on." 

Nan  posed  her  again  and  went  on  painting, 
leaving  her  with  the  last  word. 

"  Annice,  are  you  going  to  marry  that  school 
teacher  ?  " 

"  No,  grandma." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  I  don't  want  to.  I  don't  care 
enough  about  him  to  marry  him.  How  would 
you  have  liked  to  marry  some  man  you  didn't 
love  instead  of  grandpa?" 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  175 

"  I  didn't  stop  and  weigh  matters  ;  no  one  did 
in  them  days.  We  got  married  as  a  matter  of 
course.  Jonas  Wynkoop — your  father  is  named 
for  him — came  a-courting  me.  He  was  well-to- 
do  and  good-looking,  and  he  sang  bass  in  the 
choir.  I  was  twenty,  and  lots  of  girls  married 
before  that  age,  and  I  took  him.  We  always  got 
along  first-rate  together,  Jonas  and  I,  and  I 
wasn't  stopping  to  think  whether  we  were  con- 
genial or  not.  We  were  too  busy,  I  with  my 
housework  and  Jonas  with  his  farm.  We  worked 
and  saved  and  made  money  and  raised  six  chil- 
dren. All  of  them  did  well  except  your  pa ;  he 
don't  seem  to  have  any  faculty,  and  he  don't  take 
that  after  me  nor  your  grandpa.  Well,  Jonas 
has  been  dead  these  thirteen  years,  and  here  I  am, 
as  lively  as  I  was  ten  years  ago,  and  having  my 
picture  took.  How  are  you  getting  along. 
Annice?  " 

"  Nicely  ;  just  sit  still  five  minutes  longer,  and 
I'll  give  you  a  rest." 

Grandma  was  never  satisfied  with  the  picture. 
It  was  too  faithful  to  suit  her.  As  she  said,  she 
might  as  well  look  in  the  glass  if  Nan  was  going 
to  paint  her  just  as  she  was,  and  she  insisted  that 
Nan  hadn't  made  the  false  front  "  crimpy " 
enough.  Nan  promised  to  mend  that  fault,  and 
while  the  old  lady  stood  there  she  painted  out  a 
wrinkle  or  two,  whereat  grandma  went  back  to 
her  pose. 


1/6  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

"You'll  make  a  right  smart  painter  some  day, 
Annice,  if  you  keep  on.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if 
you'd  get  as  much  as  twenty-five  dollars  for  a 
picture  by  and  by." 

Nan  told  some  prices  which  "  men  who  painted 
pictures  for  a  living"  got  for  their  portraits. 

"  For  the  land's  sake  !  It  must  pay  them  better 
than  doing  men's  work.  I  suppose  that  is  why 
they  stick  to  it.  I  don't  suppose  women  ever 
make  very  much  for  their  pictures  ;  they  never 
get  so  well  paid  as  men.  It  ain't  in  the  nature  of 
things." 

"Why  not,  grandma?"  asked  Nan. 

"  Because  it  ain't,  child.  It  ain't  to  be  ex- 
pected." 

"  But,  grandma,  suppose  women's  work  is 
equally  good." 

"  It  don't  matter.  Women's  women  and  men's 
men.  You  can't  change  what  has  always  been." 
And  Nan  got  no  elucidation  of  this  much-vexed 
question  of  equal  pay  for  equal  labor. 

"  If  you'll  marry  the  school  teacher,  I'll  give 
you  a  plush  parlor  set  when  you  go  to  house- 
keeping." Grandma  spoke  as  if  this  offer  would 
clinch  the  bargain. 

Nan  laughed,  much  to  the  old  lady's  indigna- 
tion. "You'll  see  the  time  when  you'll  be  glad 
to  have  such  a  parlor  set  as  that  would  be." 

"  I  never  expect  to  have  a  parlor  to  put  one 
in." 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  177 

"  No  parlor?  Oh,  I  suppose  you'll  have  one  of 
those  studio  rooms  I've  read  about  in  books,  full 
of  old  tin  pans  and  trumpery,  old  furniture  and 
fol-de-rol.  I'd  be  self-respecting  enough  to  say 
I'd  have  a  parlor,  even  if  I  didn't  see  where  it  was 
coming  from.  Your  ma  ain't  got  much  get-up 
about  her,  but  she's  got  a  proper  parlor." 

Nan  often  wished  for  Miss  Henshawe  to  share 
the  fun.  It  took  the  mornings  of  two  weeks  to 
complete  the  picture,  and  Nan  found  her  grand- 
mother most  piquant  company.  The  old  lady 
had  most  decided  views  upon  all  subjects, 
and  she  announced  them  with  much  conviction. 
Sometimes  they  almost  fell  out,  and  grandma 
would  go  downstairs  and  stay  so  long  that  Nan 
would  coax  her  back  by  a  promise  to  make  the 
cheeks  redder  or  to  paint  out  another  line  in  the 
face. 

At  last  the  picture  was  done,  and  Nan  carried 
it  down  to  her  grandmother's  room.  She  sur- 
veyed it  critically,  said  the  dress  looked  as  if  it 
were  real  silk,  and  that  no  doubt  Nan  had  done 
her  best,  considering  how  far  she  had  gone,  but 
that,  except  for  the  dress  and  the  breast-pin,  she 
would  never  have  known  who  it  was  if  she  hadn't 
sat  for  it. 

"  I'm  sorry  you  are  not  pleased,  grandma,  and 

I  am  sure  the  next  picture  will  be  better.     You 

know  I  am  to  paint  your  lovely  hair.    You  know 

you  promised," 
12 


1/8  Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist, 

"  Yes,  child,  I  know.  But  I  can't  go  through 
all  that  again  right  away.  I'll  make  my  visit  at 
your  Uncle  David's,  and  I'll  come  back  in  Au- 
gust and  finish  out  my  visit  here.  Then  you  can 
take  me  looking  as  old  as  you  please,  only  you 
mustn't  ever  show  it  hereabouts." 

"  Miss  Henshawe  will  be  here  then,  and  we'll 
have  real  good  times  together.     You'll  like  her." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I'll  like  her  or  not,  but 
I  am  curious  to  see  some  more  of  these  painting 
people.  I'd  like  to  see  some  of  those  men  who 
get  such  big  prices  for  their  pictures." 

When  Nan  went  to  her  grandmother's  room  to 
say  good-night,  she  called  her  in  and  told  her  to 
draw  the  shades.  Nan  obeyed,  and  the  old  lady 
opened  her  trunk  and  took  out  a  box  marked 
"  Prepared  Mustard  Plasters," 

"What  is  the  matter,  grandma?  Are  you  ill? 
Why  don't  you  let  mother  make  a  mustard  plas- 
ter?    Hers  are  better  than  prepared  ones." 

"Who  said  anything  about  mustard  plasters? 
I'm  after  my  money.  I  keep  it  between  these 
layers  of  mustard  plasters,  and  I'd  like  to  see 
the  burglar  who  would  think  of  looking  here 
for  it.  There  are  two  ten-dollar  bills  and  one 
five;  that  makes  twenty-five  dollars.  It's  all  for 
painting  my  portrait.  When  you  get  rich  from 
your  pictures  remember  that  your  grandmother 
paid  you  the  first  money  you  ever  got  for  paint- 
ing a  portrait." 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  tf^ 

"  It  is  too  much,"  Nan  began. 

"  No ;  it  ain't.  You  worked  hard  enough,  I 
guess  you  earned  it.  Do  what  you  please  with 
the  money.  I  hope  you'll  have  lots  more  of  it 
from  your  pictures.  I'd  rather  see  you  marry 
than  be  a  painter,  but  I  suppose  I'm  old-fashioned. 
You  seem  to  have  lots  of  push  and  spirit,  and 
I'm  glad  of  it.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  take  it 
after  me.  Maybe  I'd  be  painting  pictures  and 
writing  books  if  I  had  to  live  in  this  age.  There, 
child,  don't  thank  me.  You  are  welcome.  If  you 
hadn't  been  you  wouldn't  have  got  the  money." 

Nan  put  the  money  with  the  little  hoard  she 
was  saving  toward  next  year's  expenses.  This 
was  a  great  increase,  and  it  was  none  the  less 
welcome  because  unexpected. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  middle  of  August  brought  Miss  Hen- 
shawe.  She  had  spent  the  summer  at  her  old 
home  in  Maine,  and  she  had  left  Miss  Minerva 
there,  pottering  among  her  flower-beds  as  happy 
as  a  queen. 

Nan  drove  old  Billy  to  the  station  to  meet  Miss 
Henshawe.  "  Isn't  it  lovely  !  so  peaceful  and  rest- 
ful," was  her  first  exclamation.  "  Do  you  know, 
I  think  I  shall  ^r^w  here,  grow  artistically  I  mean. 
The  surroundings  are  favorable  for  growth,  don't 
you  think  ?  " 

"  I  think  they  are  favorable  for  standing  still 
artistically,"  said  Nan,  chirruping  to  Billy,  who 
showed  his  usual  indisposition  to  move.  "  I  hope 
you  have  come  prepared  to  be  sensible,  Clara 
Henshawe.  I  don't  like  the  way  you  are  starting 
out." 

Miss  Henshawe  laughed  good-naturedly.  "  I'll 
get  over  this.  But  really,  it's  a  dear,  delightful 
old  place.  I  feel  rested  already.  Hills  always 
rest  me." 

"  I  don't  like  them.     I'd  give  all  the  Catskills 

sometimes  for  a  whiff  from  the  sea.     I  sit  here 

and  dream  of  salt  water  till  I  can  smell  it,  almost. 
180 


Annide  Wynkoop,  Artist.  \%l 

Hold  the  horse,  will  you,  while  I  go  into  the  post- 
office.'* 

"  What  a  lot  of  people  I     What  is  going  on  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  They  always  congregate  at  the 
post-office.  Some  people  get  a  letter  now  and 
then,  and  the  others  come  to  see  if  anyone  else 
gets  letters." 

"  O,  there  is  Mr.  Bamford." 

Miss  Henshawe's  voice  was  pitched  so  high  that 
Mr.  Bamford  heard  her,  and  he  came  up  to  the 
buggy  and  shook  hands.  When  Nan  came  back 
with  the  mail  they  were  chatting  as  if  they  were 
the  best  of  friends.  Nan  took  the  reins,  but  Miss 
Henshawe  was  in  the  midst  of  a  description  of  her 
summer,  and  of  course  Nan  had  to  wait  till  she 
came  to  a  full  stop. 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  see  you  often  while  I  am 
with  Annice,"  said  Miss  Henshawe  cordially,  when 
at  last,  they  drove  away. 

"  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  call  soon,"  and  Mr. 
Bamford  went  back  into  the  post-office,  feeling 
very  well  satisfied  with  himself.  It  was  some- 
thing to  be  appreciated,  even  if  by  the  wrong 
woman.  Nan  had  looked  particularly  attractive 
that  afternoon  in  a  broad-brimmed  hat  and  a 
dainty  blue  muslin.  Mr.  Bamford  could  almost 
imagine  her  a  womanly  woman  with  no  thought 
of  a  "  sphere." 

"  You  seem  to  have  letters,"  remarked  Miss 
Henshawe. 


I §2  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

"  Yes  ;  one  from  Paris,  from  Miss  Frost.  The 
post-master's  daughter  hated  to  let  it  go  so  soon. 
Poor  girl,  it  was  inconsiderate  of  me  to  call  for 
the  mail  as  soon  as  it  was  in." 

"  What  is  in  this  parcel  ?  That  has  a  *  furrin  ' 
look  too.     Open  it,  do." 

Nan  did.  It  proved  to  be  a  sketch — a  bit  of 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  and  it  was  signed 
"  T.  B.  F." 

"  Teddy  Frost.  Oh,  the  darling,  that  he  is  !  I'd 
give  all  my  back  hair  to  have  him  send  me  some- 
thing, and  you  take  it  as  a  matter  of  course. 
What  is  this  on  the  back?.  'In  memory  of  our 
day  at  the  Bronx.'  I  declare,  this  is  very  senti- 
mental. I  feel  it  my  duty  to  tell  Mr.  Bamford  all 
about  this." 

"  My  dear  Clara,  this,  as  you  are  pleased  to  call 
it,  is  none  of  Mr.  Bamford's  business,  to  speak 
plainly.  We  may  as  well  understand  this  at 
once." 

Miss  Henshawe  gave  a  little  whistle.  "  Did  I 
put  my  foot  in  it  when  I  asked  him  to  call?" 

"  No  ;  he  calls  now  and  then,  enough  to  keep 
up  appearances,  but  he  and  I  understand  each 
other." 

"  Nan,  I'll  wager  sixteen  tubes  of  paint  that 
you  liked  him  before  you  met — " 

Miss  Wynkoop's  hand  was  placed  gently  but 
firmly  over  her  friend's  mouth.  *'  Don't  you  dare, 
on  your  life,  finish  that  sentence.     If  you  attempt 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  1 83 

to  I'll  drive  Billy  over  the  stone  wall  and  do  my 
best  to  break  your  neck.  That  is  our  house  just 
ahead." 

"  I'll  never  say  anything  again,  unless  I  ask 
you  first  if  it  is  proper.  There  is  your  grand- 
mother sitting  on  the  porch." 

"Yes;  and  she  has  dressed  up  in  your  honor. 
When  I  left  she  had  on  a  nice-looking  lawn 
wrapper,  and  her  own  hair,  and  now  she  has  on 
all  her  war-paint,  and  looks  hideous.  Wait  till  I 
show  you  her  to-morrow  without  that  false  front, 
before  you  form  any  opinion  of  her." 

"  I  must  say  she  doesn't  look  like  your  grand- 
mother, that  is  all.  It's  very  pretty  here,  Nan, 
and  the  house  looks  comfy  and  homelike.  I 
am  anxious  to  see  your  little  green-and-white 
room." 

A  few  moments  later  Miss  Henshawe  stood 
within  it,  getting  rid  of  the  dust  of  travel. 

"  It's  like  you.  Nan.  Now  I  want  to  see  the 
little  attic  studio,  but  I'll  wait  till  morning  for 
that.  I  mustn't  have  everything  in  one  day. 
What  a  glorious  sunset  you  have  from  your  little 
window.  I  shall  be  very  happy  here."  And 
Miss  Henshawe  kissed  Nan  impulsively. 

Miss  Henshawe  had  wondered  whether  the  Wyn- 
koop  family  would  not  be  somewhat  "  put  out  " 
at  having  a  guest  from  the  city.  But  she  soon 
saw  that  they  were  perfectly  at  ease.  They  met 
her  cordially,  but  there  was  nothing  to  indicate 


184  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

that  they  felt  any  embarrassment.  Only  grandma 
had  made  an  effort  to  "  dress  up."  Mrs.  Wyn- 
koop,  Emma  Anna,  and  Charlotte,  wore  muslin 
dresses. 

Grandma  immediately  inquired  after  the  health 
of  Miss  Minerva.  After  being  assured  that  she 
was  well  and  happy,  the  old  lady  started  out  on 
a  genealogical  excursion. 

"Are  you  any  relation  of  Silas  Henshawe  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  never  heard  of  him.  Who 
was  he  ?  " 

"  He  was  the  son  of  Pelatiah  Henshawe,  and 
his  father  was  Obadiah  Henshawe.  They  came 
from  Maine  way,  and  most  probably  you  all  are 
related.  They  were  the  only  family  of  Hen- 
shawes  I  ever  knew,  and  Silas,  he  died  in  States 
prison.     He  forged." 

Miss  Henshawe  choked  behind  her  napkin,  and 
Nan's  eyes  were  dancing. 

"  How — unfortunate  if  Silas  was  a  relative  of 
mine,"  said  Miss  Henshawe.  "  I'll  ask  Minerva  if 
she  knows  anything  of  the  family  history." 

"  Silas  Henshawe  didn't  look  unlike  you,"  per- 
sisted grandma,  "  and  now  that  I  think  of  it,  you 
have  the  same  nose." 

"  Silas  must  have  been  an  artist  in  his  line,  and 
that  is  another  point  of  resemblance,"  said  Nan, 
mischievously. 

"  No ;  he  wasn't  an  artist,  he  was  a  stonemason, 
iand  he'd  a  done  better  if  he'd  stuck  to  his  trade 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  1S5 

and  let  forging  alone.  Some  of  his  family  didn't 
know  enough  to  read,  let  alone  writin*,  and  it 
would  have  been  better  for  Silas  if  he'd  had  no 
schooling.  No,  no  ;  he  wasn't  an  artist ;  people 
didn't  make  pictures  and  call  it  work,  in  those 
days." 

"  Isn't  your  grandmother  a  treat  ?  "  said  Miss 
Henshawe,  when  she  and  Nan  went  out  on  the 
porch  after  supper.  "  She  is  as  good  as  a  play. 
She  told  me  about  the  picture  you  painted  of  her, 
while  you  were  out  of  the  room  a  moment  before 
supper." 

"  Yes  ;  I  did  a  dreadful  one  to  please  her,  but 
I'm  going  to  do  a  good  one  to  please  myself.  I 
depend  upon  you  to  keep  grandma  quiet  while  I 
paint." 

After  the  farm  had  been  thoroughly  explored 
by  Miss  Henshawe  on  the  morning  after  her 
arrival,  she  turned  her  attention  to  the  studio  and 
examined  everything  Nan  had  done  since  she 
began  to  paint.  Grandma  heard  their  voices,  and 
came  up  to  inquire  if  they  wanted  her  to  sit  for 
her  picture. 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  we'll  take  her  while  she  is  willing, 
it  is  so  seldom  that  she  is,"  said  Nan.  "  I  have  a 
canvas  ready." 

So  grandma  sat  down,  and  Miss  Henshawe 
draped  her  shoulders  in  the  black  lace  mantle,  and 
posed  her.  Nan  began  to  draw  at  once,  and  by 
dinner  time  she  had  made  satisfactory  progress. 


l86  Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist. 

Miss  Henshawe  talked,  and  worked  on  some  em- 
broidery, thus  keeping  grandma  quiet. 

After  a  day  or  two  Nan  became  absorbed  in  her 
picture.  "  It  is  going  to  be  the  best  thing  I  ever 
did,"  she  said  to  Miss  Henshawe,  who  fully  agreed 
with  her. 

Grandma  sniflFed  contemptuously  when  she 
looked  at  it,  and  said  it  was  even  worse  than  the 
first  one.  She  asked  Miss  Henshawe  why  she  did 
not  take  her  picture.  She  had  taken  a  great  fancy 
to  Miss  Henshawe,  and  she  followed  her  about  the 
house.  She  felt  acquainted  with  her  at  once,  be- 
cause she  had  known  Silas,  and  Miss  Henshawe's 
nose  was  like  his. 

"  Miss  Henshawe,  or  Clara,  is  a  nice  girl.  She 
said  I  was  to  call  her  Clara,"  said  Grandma  to  Nan 
one  morning  as  they  sat  shelling  peas  in  the 
kitchen.    "  I  wonder  why  she  never  got  married  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,  but  there  is  time 
enough  yet." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that ;  she  must  be  twenty- 
five,  and  when  I  was  young  a  girl  well-nigh  gave 
up  hope  at  twenty-five." 

"  Gave  up  hope  of  what,  grandma  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  getting  married,  of  course.  That's 
what  we  were  talking  about.  Is  she  going  to 
marry  that  Parrish  man  she  talks  about  so  often  ?  " 

"  Mercy,  no.    They  are  only  good  friends." 

"  Humph  !  Where  is  Clara  ?  I  thought  she  was 
talking  to  the  teacher  out  on  the  steps." 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  187 

"  She  was,  and  no  doubt  she  is  talking  to  him 
now.     They  have  gone  driving." 

"  Just  as  like  as  not  that  will  make  a  match, 
and  you  might  have  had  him  as  well  as  not.  Per- 
haps he's  going  with  Clara  just  to  give  you  a 
lesson." 

"  Oh,  Grandma  Wynkoop,  don't  be  such  a 
matchmaker.  He  probably  takes  her  driving  be- 
cause he  wants  to.  Now  the  peas  are  done,  and 
it's  time  to  paint.     Let's  go  up-stairs." 

"  Let's  wait  till  Clara  comes." 

"Why?  I  can't  lose  this  morning.  You'll 
think  more  of  Clara  than  you  do  of  me,  if  you  are 
not  careful,  and  I  shall  be  jealous." 

"I  guess  not.  I  guess  if  you  are  not  jealous 
about  the  teacher  you  won't  be  about  your  old 
grandmother.  Did  Mr.  Bamford  ask  you  to  go 
riding  with  him  this  morning?  " 

"  No  ;  he  did  not.  He  hasn't  asked  me  to  drive 
with  him  this  summer,  and  he  won't  ask  me,  and 
I'm  glad  of  it.  I'll  give  him  and  Clara  my  bless- 
ing and  dance  at  their  wedding.  Don't  move, 
grandma,  and  I'll  let  you  rest  in  five  minutes." 

Miss  Henshawe  came  after  a  while.  She 
stopped  to  look  over  Nan's  shoulder.  "  Good ! 
Grandma,  you  mustn't  be  vain,  but  you  are  a 
handsome  old  lady.  Nan  will  get  praise  for  this 
picture." 

"  Did  you  have  a  nice  ride  ?  "  asked  grandma 
sententiously. 


1 88  Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist. 

"Yes  ;  thank  you.  The  natives  stared  as  if  they 
thought  I  had  a  beau.  I  believe  that  is  the  cor- 
rect word,  Nan.  I  almost  know  what  they  said 
when  we  had  passed.  '  I  declare,  the  teacher  is 
waiting  on  that  artist  woman  from  New  York.* 
*  Waiting  on,'  is  the  proper  expression,  isn't  it, 
Nan,  or  is  it  *  going  with  '  ?  " 

"  Both  are  correct,"  said  Nan,  mixing  more 
paint.     "They are  synonyms." 

"  I  thought  so.  As  I  saw  the  neighbors  were 
looking,  I  was  very  much  absorbed  in  the  teacher, 
and  looked  at  him  as  if  I  thought  he  was  good 
enough  to  eat.     I  hope  he  liked  it." 

"  I  think  he  did.  He  appreciates  any  one  who 
appreciates  him." 

"  Poor  man.  He  really  is  very  nice,  and  we  are 
going  to  the  *  doings '  at  the  Methodist  church. 
What  is  it,  a  lawn  party  ?  " 

"  It's  an  ice-cream  festival,"  said  grandma, 
"  and  Harriet,  she  said  she'd  take  me.  You  going, 
Nan?" 

Nan  shook  her  head.  "  I  don't  know,  grand- 
ma. If  Harriet  doesn't  get  home  in  time  to  take 
you,  I'll  go.  I'm  glad  you  are  going,  Clara ;  it 
will  give  you  an  excellent  chance  to  see  Mace- 
donia and  its  suburbs." 

Nan  was  especially  glad  that  Clara  was  going 
to  the  festival  with  Mr.  Bamford.  That  would 
convince  the  Macedonians  once  and  forever  that 
the  teacher  was  not  waiting  on  "  the  youngest 


Afintce   Wynkoop,  Artist.  189 

Wynkoop  girl."  Of  course  there  would  be  people 
who  would  say  that  "she  couldn't  get  the 
teacher,"  but  she  was  quite  willing  to  leave  them 
to  their  own  opinion.  She  was  going  back  to  New 
York,  and  she  could  afford  to  let  the  neighbors 
theorize  about  her. 

Miss  Henshawe's  two  weeks  lengthened  to 
four,  and  when  at  last  she  went  to  New  York,  it 
was  to  settle  a  place  to  live  and  work  in  during 
the  next  year.  Her  household  goods  had  been 
in  storage  during  the  summer.  She  and  Nan 
and  Harriet  had  talked  ways  and  means,  and 
Miss  Minerva  had  written  numberless  pages  on 
the  same  subject.  It  was  settled  at  last  that  the 
Henshawes  should  take  a  larger  apartment,  and 
that  Nan  should  be  with  them.  Miss  Henshawe 
had  dwelt  on  the  desirability  of  Nan's  living  with 
some  one  staid  and  elderly  like  Miss  Minerva, 
who,  as  she  explained  to  Mrs.  Wynkoop,  was  not 
one  bit  like  her.  Harriet  said  that  she  would 
never  consent  to  having  Nan  spend  another  year 
in  that  boarding-house,  and  she  heartily  fell  in 
with  Miss  Henshawe's  plan. 

Nan  drove  that  young  woman  to  the  station 
one  day  early  in  September,  and  saw  her  on  the 
train  which  was  to  bear  her  back  to  New  York. 
Mr,  Bamford  was  there  to  say  good-by,  and  Miss 
Henshawe  invited  him  to  New  York.  "  I'll  give 
you  a  better  luncheon  this  time,"  she  said,  as  the 
car   moved  away,    "and    Mr.  Parrish   shall   not 


190  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

dress  the  salad."  She  kissed  her  hand  to  Nan, 
and  was  soon  out  of  sight. 

Nan  and  Mr.  Bamford  walked  together  over  to 
the  post-office ;  then  he  helped  her  into  the 
buggy  and  handed  her  the  reins  with  his  most 
courtly  bow. 

"  When  do  you  go  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  In  about  two  weeks,  if  Miss  Henshawe  finds 
a  place  for  us  all.  We  are  to  be  together,  you 
know.     It  will  be  much  pleasanter  for  me." 

"  Your  mother  used  to  worry  over  you  a  great 
deal  last  winter." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it.  I  was  safe  and  happy  ; 
there  was  no  need  for  her  to  worry." 

"  I  suppose  you  will  paint  a  great  picture  this 
year." 

Nan  laughed  and  flicked  a  fly  off  old  Billy's 
ears  with  her  whip.  "  I  don't  expect  to  paint  a 
great  picture,  but  I  hope  to  find  myself  much 
further  along  toward  painting  a  great  picture 
than  I  am  now.  Art  is  long,  you  know,  Mr. 
Bamford." 

"  So  I  have  always  heard.  Good-afternoon, 
Miss  Annice.  I  shall  be  up  to  see  you  before 
you  go." 

"  Good  afternoon.     I  shall  expect  you." 

"  Come  on,  Macduff,"  she  said  when  she  got 
out  of  hearing.  "  Your  visits  cannot  worry  me 
now ;  I'm  beyond  them.  Your  views  on  the 
woman  question  can't  keep  me  from  painting  a 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist,  191 

very  good  portrait-  of  Grandma  Wynkoop.  I'm 
not  vain,  I  hope,  but  I  would  like  to  hear  what  a 
certain  somebody  would  say  about  that  picture. 
There,  Billy,  take  your  time.  You  shall  stop  and 
eat  grass  to  your  heart's  content." 

Nan  let  the  reins  lie  loosely  in  her  lap,  and 
Billy  jogged  along  at  a  snail's-pace.  The  girl  in 
the  wagon  was  enjoying  herself  to  the  utmost. 
It  was  good  to  be  alive  and  beneath  the  open  sky 
on  a  day  like  this.  It  was  good  to  feel  the  young 
blood  in  her  veins  and  the  desire  to  work. 

*'  I'm  glad  I'm  Nan  Wynkoop  and  no  one  else, 
Billy.  It  may  seem  very  foolish  of  me  to  say  this, 
but  you  can  never  tell.  I'm  full  of  life  and  full 
of  hope.  I'm  happy.  I'm  going  back  to  New 
York  to  work  another  year.  I  have  no  dread  of 
anything,  not  even  of  Mr.  Bamford's  parting  call. 
See  how  emancipated  I  am,  Billy  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Going  to  New  York  the  second  time  was  a 
much  easier  matter  than  it  had  been  a  year  be- 
fore. As  she  sat  in  the  train  which  was  fast 
carrying  her  from  Macedonia,  Nan  wondered  how 
she  had  mustered  up  the  courage  to  start  when 
she  had  so  little  money,  no  friends,  and  no  expe- 
rience. True,  money  was  even  scarcer  than  it 
was  a  year  ago,  but  she  had  a  number  of  warm 
friends,  and  she  had  much  encouragement  that 
her  work  was  full  of  promise.  The  hardest  part 
of  the  battle  was  won,  she  told  herself.  She 
knew  her  ground,  and  she  could  work  with  less 
waste  of  nervous  force.  Besides,  her  surround- 
ings were  to  be  more  pleasant  than  they  were 
last  year.  She  would  be  happy  with  Miss  Minerva 
and  Clara. 

Miss  Henshawe  and  Mr.  Parrish  met  Nan, 
and  that  gentleman  relieved  her  of  her  bag, 
looked  after  her  trunk,  and  they  all  drove  home 
together  in  great  style,  though  Miss  Henshawe 
advised  him  to  save  his  money  and  patronize  the 
"  elevated." 

"After  all  this  gallantry  I  can't  do  less  than 
ask  you  to  stay  to  dinner,  Basil,"  Miss  Henshawe 
192 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  193 

said  when  they  reached  her  door.  "  Nan,  he  is 
simply  wild  with  jealousy  over  my  studio.  He 
came  in  night  before  last  and  gnashed  his  teeth 
so  that  Minerva  heard  him  'way  out  in  the 
kitchen.  For  we  have  a  kitchen  this  year,  Nan, 
and  Minerva  is  happy.  So  am  I  now  that  you 
are  here,"  and  having  reached  the  studio  by  this 
time,  Miss  Henshawe  grabbed  Nan  by  the  waist, 
and  danced  a  fantastic  dance. 

"  There,  look  about  you,  and  tell  me  if  I  haven't 
done  well,"  she  said,  when  at  last  she  released 
her. 

"  Wait  till  I  go  and  see  Miss  Minerva,"  and 
Nan  ran  to  the  door  to  meet  her. 

Miss  Minerva  received  her  with  open  arms,  and 
at  once  carried  her  off  to  look  at  her  kitchen. 
"  I  am  prouder  of  it  than  Clara  is  of  her  studio, 
and  why  not,  when  it  is  my  studio.  It  is  most 
important  that  Clara  should  have  proper  food, 
but  it  was  hard  to  cook  it  on  a  little  gas-stove. 
See  this  cupboard,  and  this,  and  see  what  a  nice 
range  I  have.  Oh,  I  shall  take  good  care  of  you 
girls  this  winter." 

When  Nan  went  back  to  the  studio  Mr.  Parrish 
was  examining  an  old  cabinet  which  Miss  Hen- 
shawe had  picked  up  at  a  bargain.  He  main- 
tained that  the  shape  was  good,  but  that  it  was 
not  real  mahogany,  while  she  as  stoutly  insisted 
that  it  was. 

Miss  Minerva  announced  dinner,  and  hostilities 


194  Aimice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

ceased  for  a  while.  It  was  a  nice  little  dinner, 
and  daintily  served.  Nan  thought  of  the  myriads 
of  women  at  the  boarding-house,  and  was  properly 
thankful  for  her  mercies. 

"  Did  you  work  this  summer,  Miss  Wynkoop  ?  " 
Mr.  Parrish  asked  abruptly,  when  he  had  drank 
his  soup. 

Miss  Henshawe  answered  for  her.  "  You  would 
think  she  worked  if  you  could  see  the  picture 
she  painted  of  Grandma  Wynkoop.  It's  far  and 
away  the  best  work  she  ever  did." 

"What's  the  matter  with  my  seeing  it?  It's 
here,  isn't  it,  or  will  it  be  when  the  baggage 
comes?  Don't  ask  me  to  carve,  Clara.  Really, 
I  am  very  nervous  this  evening." 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  ask  you.  Thank  goodness, 
I  know  how  to  carve.  I'm  as  proud  as  a  peacock 
of  that  picture  of  grandma." 

"And  she  did  it  all  by  herself,  too,  didn't  she  ?  " 

"  Of  course  she  did.  I  shall  hang  it  up  in  the 
studio,  and  Nan  can't  help  herself,  for  I  am  her 
natural  guardian  now." 

"  I'm  going  to  stay  till  the  expressman  comes, 
and  unpack  that  picture.  Oh,  by  the  way,  the 
great,  the  only  Theodore  Frost  is  in  town." 

Miss  Henshawe  dropped  her  fork.  "  How  do 
you  know?  And,  Basil,  I  don't  know  what  you 
mean  by  speaking  of  him  in  that  manner." 

Mr.  Parrish  ignored  the  reproof.  "  I  know  he  is 
in  town,  for  I  saw  his  name  among  the  arrivals 


Anntce   Wynkoop,  Artist.  I95 

on  the  Majestic  yesterday  ;  and,  moreover,  I  met 
him  to-day  exactly  in  front  of  the  Hoffman  House, 
to  be  accurate.  I  told  him  that  you  were  back 
here,  and  that  Miss  Wynkoop  would  be  here  to- 
day." 

"  Is  Miss  Frost  here,  too  ?  "  asked  Nan,  who 
had  not  spoken  for  some  time. 

"  Yes ;  so  he  said.  I  believe  you  love  her 
almost  as  much  as  Miss  Henshawe  loves  Teddy." 

**  I  wish  you  wouldn't  be  so  spiteful,  Basil.  It 
will  never  make  you  paint  one  half  as  well  as  Mr. 
Frost.  There  is  the  bell.  No  ;  Minerva,  I'll  go. 
Perhaps  it  is  the  expressman." 

It  was  the  expressman,  and  as  soon  as  dinner 
was  over  Miss  Henshawe  made  Nan  take  out  the 
portrait.  "  We'll  have  our  coffee  in  the  studio, 
after  we  have  the  picture,"  she  said. 

"  It's  mighty  well  done,  and  no  mistake,"  said 
Mr.  Parrish  cordially.  "  I  congratulate  you.  Miss 
Wynkoop." 

"  Oh,  she  has  it  in  her,"  quoted  Miss  Hen- 
shawe, with  a  wicked  look  at  Nan.  "  There  is 
another  ring.  Now  I  wonder  who  is  coming,  and 
we  have  these  coffee  cups  around." 

She  opened  the  door  to  admit  Miss  and  Mr. 
Frost.  "  Why,  I  declare,  I  am  so  surprised,  and 
so  glad.     Yes  ;  Miss  Frost,  Nan  is  here." 

"  My  dear  child,  I'm  so  glad  you  came  back  to 
us,"  and  Miss  Frost  kissed  the  girl  on  both  cheeks. 

"  When  you  are  through  with  Miss  Wynkoop, 


196  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

Jessica,  I  should  like  to  shake  hands  with  her; 
that  is,  if  there  is  anything  left  of  her. 

"  I'm  awfully  glad  they  didn't  keep  you  up  in 
Macedonia,  Miss  Wynkoop.  I  need  not  ask  you 
if  you  rested,  for  I  can  see  that  you  did,  but  I 
think  you  did  some  work  as  well.  May  I  look  at 
this  *  portrait  of  an  old  lady  '  ?  " 

Miss  Henshawe  immediately  constituted  her- 
self show-woman.  "  It  is  Grandma  Wynkoop, 
and  I  tell  Nan  it  is  the  best  thing  she  ever 
did." 

Mr.  Frost  seemed  to  pay  no  attention  to  Miss 
Henshawe's  remarks.  "  Come  here,  Jessica,"  he 
said.  They  stood  for  a  moment  looking  at  the 
picture,  then  he  said  :  "  Van  Alstyne  !  Oh,  by 
all  means.    You  must  arrange  it  somehow. 

"Your  grandmother  is  a  fine  old  lady,  and  her 
grand-daughter  has  made  a  good  portrait.  May 
I  ask  if  you  had  any  criticism  on  that  work?" 

"  No,  I  worked  alone  all  summer.  I  am  glad 
you  like  it.  I  ought  to  have  done  fairly  well  with 
it,  for  it  was  the  second  one." 

"  I  see,"  was  Mr.  Frost's  reply. 

"  Now  I  think  it  time  that  you  looked  at  my 
studio,"  said  Miss  Henshawe,  trying  to  pout. 

"  Why,  surely.  This  is  the  new  studio,  Jess, 
we  must  say  something  very  nice  about  it." 

Miss  Henshawe  proudly  conducted  the  whole 
party  all  over  the  apartment.  Mr.  Frost  declared 
himself  in  love  with  the  kitchen,  and  he  related 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  1 97 

some  of  his  culinary  experiences  while  out  in 
Arizona. 

Mr.  Parrish,  not  to  be  outshone,  gave  his  method 
of  cooking  Lobster  a  la  Newburg  in  a  chafing-dish. 

Nan  smiled  and  wondered  what  Grandma  Wyn- 
koop  would  say  if  she  had  heard  these  "  painter- 
men  "  comparing  notes  on  cookery. 

Miss  Frost  drew  Nan  aside  and  talked  over 
plans  for  next  year.  Or,  rather,  she  told  the  girl 
she  wanted  to  see  her  soon  at  her  studio,  when 
they  would  talk  over  plans. 

"  But,  my  dear  Miss  Frost ;  there  is  nothing  to 
do  but  to  go  on  as  I  did  last  year.  Of  course,  I 
shall  be  a  great  deal  better  off  now  that  I  am 
living  here  with  Clara." 

"  Come  to  me  to-morrow  at  four.  That  is  a 
good  child.  I  have  much  to  say  to  you.  Don't 
forget." 

"  I  won't,"  Nan  answered  softly. 

Miss  Frost  went  back  to  the  others,  who  were 
admiring  Clara  Henshawe's  new  purchases.  Mr. 
Frost  set  her  mind  at  rest  by  assuring  her  that  her 
cabinet  was  the  real  thing. 

"  There  !  I  told  you  so,"  she  said  triumphantly 
to  Mr.  Parrish.  "  Mr.  PVost  ought  to  know  if 
any  one  does.     You  are  so  jealous,  Basil." 

"  Faith,  and  I  don't  blame  him.  It's  a  dream 
of  a  studio.  I'm  going  to  send  you  a  couple  of 
pieces  of  queer-looking  pottery  I  brought  with 
me.    They  will  look  well  on  that  cabinet.    There 


198  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

is  a  piece  of  Delft  which  I  want  to  send  to  you, 
Miss  Wynkoop.  With  your  name,  I  dare  say 
you'll  appreciate  something  from  Holland." 

Nan  thanked  him,  though  Miss  Henshawe  cut 
in  before  she  had  finished  her  polite  little  speech. 

"  Oh,  Nan  is  Dutch,  Nearly  everybody  up  in 
Macedonia  is  Dutch.  They  have  no  end  of  stuff 
brought  from  Holland — old  chairs,  stout  enough 
to  have  held  a  generation  of  burghers,  funny, 
long,  narrow  mirrors,  with  a  picture  taking  up 
half  the  space.  Mrs.  Wynkoop  gave  me  one 
which  had  been  in  the  Wynkoop  family  ever  so 
long.  She  was  so  conscientious  she  said  she 
wasn't  sure  that  it  came  from  Holland.  But  I 
have  no  compunctions.  I  say  it  did.  I'll  get  it ; 
it  hangs  over  my  dressing-table." 

When  the  mirror  had  been  duly  admired,  Miss 
Henshawe  went  on  with  her  description  of  Mace- 
donia. 

"You  ought  to  go  there,"  she  finished  by  say- 
ing to  the  Frosts.  "  It  is  like  a  place  in  a  story- 
book. You  would  enjoy  it  particularly,  Mr. 
Frost.  You  ought  to  stay  in  your  own  country 
for  one  summer  instead  of  going  to  the  old  world. 
I  enjo5^ed  Macedonia,  and  I  am  going  there  again 
next  summer." 

"  Really  !  Then  I  think  I  shall  have  to  desert 
Paris,"  smiled  Mr.  Frost. 

"You  needn't  be  so  sarcastic.  You  would  en- 
joy it.     And  as  for  amusement,  there  is  a  great 


Amiice  Wynkoop,  Artist,  199 

deal  going  on.  I  really  was  very  dissipated. 
The  school-teacher  took  me  driving  quite  often ; 
I  went  to  two  ice-cream  festivals  and  was  invited 
out  to  tea  a  number  of  times.  Then  there  is  the 
sewing  society ;  that's  a  function,  I  assure  you.  I 
sewed  on  the  new  carpet  for  the  Presbyterian 
church,  but  I  sewed  it  on  the  wrong  side,  or, 
rather,  I  sewed  it  on  the  right  side,  which 
proved  to  be  the  wrong  side.  A  stern-visaged 
matron  in  a  black  alpaca  basque  ripped  it  out. 
She  looked  at  me  as  if  I  were  a  creature  from 
another  planet.  I  never  sewed  on  a  carpet  be- 
fore ;  how  should  I  know  which  side  was  the  out- 
side?" 

"  Is  that  all  you  did  for  the  community  in  all 
the  time  you  were  there?"  inquired  Mr.  Parrish. 
"You  were  there  fully  four  weeks." 

"  I  know  I  was,  but  I  was  urged  to  stay,  and 
the  Wynkoop  family  wouldn't  have  asked  me  to 
stay  if  they  hadn't  wanted  me  to.  I  did  other 
things  for  the  good  of  the  community,  Basil.  I 
sang  alto  in  the  choir.  I  stood  next  the  teacher, 
who  is  the  basso  profundo,  and  once,  when  Har- 
riet Wynkoop  had  the  headache,  I  played  the 
organ.     Oh,  it  is  a  great  town,  I  assure  you." 

"  I  don't  think  it  is  just  polite  to  make  fun  of 
Macedonia,  Clara."  This  from  Miss  Minerva, 
who  came  from  the  kitchen  just  in  time  to  hear 
the  last  words. 

"  Oh,  Nan  doesn't  mind.     She  isn't  a  bit  like 


200  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

the  Macedonians.  She  is  as  urban  as  if  she  had 
always  lived  in  New  York.  Some  of  the  Mace- 
donians thought  she  was  *  stuck  up,*  I  fear.  They 
think  if  you  paint  for  your  living  you  are  queer 
and  one-sided.  You  mustn't  think  that  every- 
body in  Macedonia  is  provincial,  for  it  isn't  so  at 
all." 

"That's  right,  Clara,  fix  it  up.  I  know  Miss 
Wynkoop's  feelings  are  hurt,  though  she  won't 
own  it  probably." 

"  No,  they  are  not.  Nan  called  my  attention 
to  a  great  many  funny  things,  I  repeat  that  my 
young  friend.  Miss  Wynkoop,  is   quite   urbane." 

The  Frosts  rose  to  go  when  Miss  Henshawe 
ended  this  monologue. 

"Come,  Teddy,  Miss  Wynkoop  is  tired  and  we 
must  not  keep  her  up.  To-morrow  at  four, 
Annice." 

"What  does  Miss  Frost  want  of  you  ?  "  Miss 
Henshawe  asked  of  Nan  as  they  brushed  their 
hair  together  that  night. 

"  I  don't  know,  Clara." 

"  Depend  upon  it  that  something  is  in  the 
wind.  And  let  me  give  you  a  hint ;  if  she  wants 
to  make  any  arrangements  for  you,  you  would 
better  let  her.  It  isn't  well  to  be  too  inde. 
pendent." 

"  I  am  independent,  and  I  can't  help  it.  I  was 
born  so.  I  am  glad,  though,  that  I  am  inde- 
pendent." 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  201 

"Humph  !  There  is  such  a  thing  as  having  too 
much  of  a  good  thing.  Good-night.  I  hope 
you'll  sleep  well  in  your  new  quarters." 

Miss  Frost  was  alone  when  Nan  called  next 
day,  and  she  began  at  once  to  talk  of  ways  and 
means,  as  she  had  promised. 

"  Nan,  I  want  you  to  study  with  Van  Alstyne." 

"  Miss  Frost,  there  is  no  use  in  my  crying  for 
the  moon.  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  don't  wish  to 
seem  flippant,  but  it  is  simply  impossible." 

"  There  is  nothing  impossible  about  it.  I  saw 
him  this  morning,  and  I  talked  to  him  about  you. 
He  is  a  great  friend  of  Theodore's  and  of  mine. 
There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  study 
with  him." 

Nan  flushed  a  deep  red.  "  Don't  place  me  in 
a  position  where  I  must  say  no  to  anything  you 
want  me  to  do.  Miss  Frost.  That  would  hurt 
me  more  than  I  can  say." 

"  My  dear  child,  don't  be  silly.  Excuse  me  ;  I 
should  say  don't  be  over-conscientious.  It  is  a 
very  simple  matter.  Your  sister  Harriet  wrote' 
me  to  place  you  with  the  teacher  I  thought  best 
for  you,  and  that  she  would  pay  for  your  lessons." 

"  But  Van  Alstyne !  I  have  heard  about  his 
prices,"  interrupted  Nan.  "  They  are  beyond 
Harriet's  purse.  She  is  the  soul  of  generosity, 
but  she  has  no  idea  how  these  first-clags  teachers 
charge." 

"  Please  understand  me  Annice.     I  can  make 


202  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

a  special  arrangement  with  Van  Alstyne.  Both 
Theodore  and  I  have  sent  many  pupils  to  him, 
and—" 

Nan  shook  her  head.  "  No,  Miss  Frost,  I 
really  don't  think  I  ought  to  do  anything  like 
that  now.  I'll  keep  on  as  I  began,  for  the  pres- 
ent, at  least." 

"  You  will  give  up  that  afternoon  work,  I  hope, 
Nan.  It  is  taking  your  strength,  and  you  might 
rather  spend  your  time  in  picture  galleries." 

"  You  mean  my  illustrating?  I  can't  give  it  up. 
It  doesn't  take  much  time,  and  it  really  is  quite 
a  help.  I  did  quite  a  little  while  I  was  home, 
and  in  one  month  I  made  twenty-two  dollars. 
Really,  Miss  Frost,  the  work  is  very  simple,  or  I 
could  not  do  it  at  all." 

"  Are  you  going  to  Brooklyn  as  you  did  last 
spring." 

"Yes;  I  hope  so.  Mrs.  Richardson  is  in  the 
country  now,  but  I  hope  she  will  want  me  when 
she  comes  back.  That  work  helps  me  a  little 
too." 

It  was  Miss  Frost's  turn  to  shake  her  head. 
*'  It  is  bad  economy.  You  might  rather  work 
with  all  your  might  while  you  work." 

**  If  I  help  myself  a  good  deal  I  can  perhaps 
study  here  two  years  more  instead  of  one.  That 
is  what  I  am  hoping  for." 

"Oh,  you  poor  child,  I  see  you  are  bound  to 
have  your  way,     I  won't  torment  you,  but  any 


Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist.  203 

time  you  are  ready  to  change  your  mind  and  go 
to  Van  Alstyne  let  me  know." 

When  Miss  Henshawe  succeeded  in  drawing 
from  Nan  what  Miss  Frost  wanted  of  her,  she 
told  her  very  plainly  that  she  was  a  precious  goose 
to  refuse  to  go  to  Van  Alstyne. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Nan  was  thoroughly  rested  by  her  long  summer 
at  home,  and  she  threw  herself  into  her  work  with 
all  her  strength. 

The  illustrating  for  the  Headlight  went  on,  and 
while  the  returns  were  slight.  Nan  considered  it 
well  worth  doing.  Mrs.  Richardson  returned 
early  in  September,  and  she  sent  at  once  for  her 
amanuensis.  Nan  was  glad  of  this  source  of 
revenue,  though  she  grudged  the  two  afternoons 
a  week.  Still,  even  the  most  talented  art  student 
must  live,  and  to  live  one  must  have  some  money, 
be  it  ever  so  little. 

Nan  had  been  fortunate  in  one  respect.  She 
had  been  particularly  exempt  from  mortifying 
experiences  which  beset  many  girls  whom  she 
knew.  But  a  most  bitter  one  came  to  her  early 
in  her  second  year  in  the  city.  As  Miss  Hen- 
shawe  told  her,  if  she  had  taken  Miss  Frost's  ad- 
vice and  given  up  the  Brooklyn  business,  it  would 
never  have  happened. 

Soon   after  Nan  resumed  her  work  with  Mrs. 

Richardson,  her    stepson,  Vivian,    came    home. 

He  had  been  traveling  abroad  during  the  previous 
904 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  205 

year,  and  Nan  had  not  known  of  his  existence. 
He  soon  found  it  convenient  to  lounge  in  and  out 
of  his  stepmother^s  boudoir  while  Nan  was  busied 
with  correspondence  and  accounts  or  was  painting 
menu  cards.  This  last  was  a  new  use  to  which 
Mrs.  Richardson  had  put  her. 

Nan  was,  of  course,  aware  of  Vivian  Richard- 
son's presence  as  he  passed  in  and  out,  but  she 
never  gave  him  a  second  thought.  She  soon  saw 
that  he  had  given  her  many.  "  He  wants  to  flirt, 
I  suppose,"  she  thought,  "  but  I'll  be  so  stupid 
that  I  won't  pretend  to  see  it."  This  plan  worked 
very  well  for  a  little  while,  but  the  young  man 
made  so  many  bids  for  her  attention  that  she 
could  no  longer  feign  blindness.  One  day  under 
pretence  of  looking  for  sealing-wax  on  his  mother's 
desk,  he  put  a  scrap  of  paper  before  her.  On  it 
he  had  written.  **  I  love  you.  Where  can  I  meet 
you  ?     Pity  me," 

Nan's  face  flushed  with  anger,  but  Mr.  Richard- 
son mistook  the  signal.  Quick  as  a  flash  she 
scribbled  on  the  back  of  an  envelope,  "  I  despise 
you. 

M.  Richardson,  who  had  taken  a  picturesque 
attitude,  with  his  arm  resting  on  the  mantelpiece, 
read  the  words,  and  vowed  a  vow  to  have  ven- 
geance on  the  girl  who  had  presumed  to  snub  him. 
He  was  used  to  having  his  addresses  met  in  a  very 
different  fashion.  Who  was  this  girl  that  she  had 
dared  tell  him  that  she  despised  him  ?     When  he 


2o6  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

was  ready  to  make  a  dignified  exit,  he  left  the 
room,  still  nursing  his  wrath. 

Nan  finished  her  task  as  usual,  but  she  felt  dis- 
turbed. She  was  sure  that  Mrs.  Richardson  had 
seen  the  by -play.  She  wished  she  knew  what  had 
really  happened,  and  she  had  half  a  mind  to  tell 
her.  She  concluded  not  to  do  so,  however,  and 
went  home  to  pour  her  story  into  Clara's  sym- 
pathetic ear. 

That  lady  was  rather  inclined  to  be  amused,  and 
she  thought  that  Nan  had  been  too  hard  upon  the 
young  man. 

"  How  could  you  resist  any  one  with  such  a  pic- 
turesque name?"  she  laughed. 

"  It's  no  laughing  matter,  Clara.  I'll  have  to 
stop  going  to  Mrs.  Richardson  unless  he  keeps 
out  of  the  boudoir,  and  I  hate  to  lose  the  money 
she  pays  me." 

Meantime,  Mr.  Vivian  Richardson  had  thought 
out  his  scheme  of  revenge.  He  delicately  in- 
timated to  his  stepmother  that  her  amanuensis 
was  "  making  eyes  at  him."  A  hint  was  enough 
for  Mrs.  Richardson.  She  flew  into  a  rage  and 
assured  her  son  that  she  would  protect  him  from 
the  wiles  of  that  forward  upstart.  This,  with 
other  names,  equally  misapplied,  was  hurled  at 
poor  Nan,  who  would  not  have  recognized  herself 
by  Mrs.  Richardson's  description, 

Mr.  Vivian  Richardson  lighted  a  cigar  and, 
assuring  himself  that  revenge  was  quite  as  sweet 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  207' 

as  it  was  said  to  be,  went  out  to  have  a  game  of 
billiards. 

Mrs.  Richardson  met  Nan  as  usual  and  satis- 
fied herself  that  the  menu  cards  she  had  taken 
home  to  paint  were  satisfactorily  finished  before 
she  opened  fire.  Nan  was  well  into  the  week's 
accounts  before  Mrs.  Richardson  said,  in  icy 
tones : 

"  Miss  Wynkoop,  I  am  disappointed  in  you." 

Nan  dropped  her  pen  and  wheeled  around. 
She  did  not  say  anything.  Mrs.  Richardson 
might  refer  to  the  menu  cards,  or,  possibly,  her 
accounts. 

But  the  next  words  left  no  room  for  doubt. 
"  I  regret  that  you  have  so  far  forgotten  your 
position  as  to  try  to  attract  the  attention  of  my 
son." 

Nan's  head  swam.  For  an  instant  she  felt  that 
she  must  throw  the  inkstand  at  her.  Her 
mother's  daughter  in  such  a  position  !  She  had 
her  temper  under  control  in  a  moment,  and  rising 
at  her  desk,  she  said  in  fairly  calm  fashion : 

"  Mrs.  Richardson,  I  have  heard  quite  enough. 
It  is  your  son,  not  I,  who  has  forgotten  himself 
when  he  presumed  to  try  to  attract  the  attention 
of  a  self-respecting  girl.  I  should  never  have 
thought  twice  of  his  existence  if  he  had  not 
thrust  himself  before  my  attention." 

**  Oh,  it  won't  do  to  take  this  turn.  You  are  a 
poor  girl,  and  it  would  no  doubt  be  a  fine  thing 


2o8  Annie e   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

for  you  to  attract  the  attention  of  a  gentleman 
like  Vivian." 

"  Gentleman !  He  has  no  claim  to  the  name. 
I  have  been  basely  insulted  in  your  house,  Mrs. 
Richardson.  I  consider  my  engagement  with 
you  at  an  end.  I  won't  tell  you  what  I  think  of 
your  son  and  of  your  treatment  of  me,  for  I  don't 
care  to  put  myself  on  a  level  with  you.  You 
may  send  a  check  for  the  amount  due  me  to 
this  address ; "  and  Nan  laid  her  card  on  the 
table  by  Mrs.  Richardson's  side  and  swept  out  of 
the  room,  a  most  irate  young  lady. 

Mrs.  Richardson  rang  for  her  maid  and  was 
helped  to  her  room,  where  she  indulged  in  what 
she  called  hysterics.  It  was  a  close  enough  imita- 
tion to  frighten  Treasure  when  he  came  up  to  see 
his  Precious.  When,  at  last,  he  gathered  the 
story  between  Mrs.  Richardson's  sobs,  he  was 
unsympathetic  enough  to  say  that  probably  the 
girl  was  right,  Vivian  was  an  ass. 

If  the  young  lady  with  an  unusually  high  color, 
who  was  on  her  way  to  New  York,  could  have 
heard  his  opinion,  it  would,  no  doubt,  have  com- 
forted her.  She  laughed  several  times  over  the 
affair,  a  "hystericky  "  laugh,  as  she  owned  to  her- 
self. She  wished  she  was  home  with  Miss  Mi- 
nerva ;  she  would  comfort  her.  The  way  seemed 
endless,  but  at  last  she  reached  the  studio.  Clara 
sat  painting,  but  Miss  Minerva  was  out. 

"  You   are   home   early,"  Miss   Henshawe  ob- 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  209 

served.  No  answer,  and  she  looked  up.  "  Oh, 
my  dear  Nan,  did  that  old  cat — " 

"Yes,  she  did.  Clara,  I  feel  so  humiliated.  I 
can't  stand  it." 

Miss  Henshawe  put  away  her  paints  and 
brushes ;  then  she  went  over  to  the  divan  and  sat 
down  by  Nan.  "  Now  tell  me  all  about  it,"  she 
demanded. 

Nan  obeyed.  She  laughed  sometimes  and 
sometimes  she  cried  a  little  before  the  story  was 
finished. 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  care,"  was  Miss 
Henshawe's  verdict,  as  she  stroked  the  Titian-red 
hair  which  she  so  much  admired.  "  Of  course 
the  boy  isn't  worth  minding,  and  as  for  the 
woman,  I  think  you  are  even  with  her.  Now  put 
the  whole  affair  out  of  your  mind.  Probably  it 
is  a  good  thing  that  it  happened  ;  you  were  tiring 
yourself  too  much  by  that  trip  and  work.  It  cost 
you  much  more  in  strength  than  it  was  worth  to 
you  in  money.  I'm  going  to  tease  Minerva  to 
give  us  something  extra  good  for  dinner." 

When  Nan  talked  the  affair  over  with  Miss 
Minerva  after  dinner,  she  told  her  she  would  not 
think  of  it  again;  Nan  was  not  to  blame,  and  she 
had  conducted  herself  like  a  lady. 

Miss  Minerva  and  Nan  were  in  the  kitchen 

"  doing  "  the  dinner  dishes ;  Clara  was  entertain. 

ing — which  means  quarrelling — with  Basil  Parrish 

in  the  studio.     The  sound  of  their  voices  rasped 

14 


2IO  Annice  Wyjtkoop,  Artist. 

on  Nan's  nerves.  She  would  not  join  them, 
though  Miss  Henshawe  came  twice  to  call  her. 
She  couldn't  join  them ;  she  was  out  of  touch 
with  them. 

After  a  while  she  went  to  her  little  room, 
meaning  to  fall  asleep  at  once  and  forget  her 
troubles.  But  sleep  would  not  come  at  her  call. 
She  lay  awake  till  midnight  going  over  the 
Richardson  affair.  Sometimes  she  laughed  and 
the  next  moment  she  would  bury  her  face  in  her 
pillow  and  sob.  She  felt  wounded  ;  she  could 
not  forget  this,  her  first  real  trouble.  She  wanted 
some  one  to  talk  to — some  one  even  more  sym- 
pathetic than  Minerva  Henshawe.  She  wanted 
her  mother.  At  that  moment  she  loathed  New 
York,  and  she  would  gladly  have  put  it  behind 
her.  She  tried  to  comfort  herself  by  thinking  of 
her  work,  but  she  did  not  care  for  her  pictures 
then.  She  rose  and  lighted  the  gas  and  looked 
at  them,  but  to  no  purpose. 

"  They  are  daubs,  every  one  of  them,"  she 
said.  "I  can't  paint,  and  I  don't  care  if  I  can't." 
She  crept  out  into  the  studio.  Perhaps  her 
chef  (Tceuvre,  the  portrait  of  Grandma  Wynkoop, 
would  seem  worth  having  done.  But,  no ;  grandma 
looked  as  if  she  might  be  saying  some  sharp 
thing.  Yet  somebody  had  praised  it,  somebody 
who  ought  to  know  when  a  portrait  was  good. 
"  They  say  these  things  to  encourage  me,"  Nan 
said,  as  she  turned  out  the  gas  in  the  studio  and 


Annie e  Wynkoop,  Artist.  5it 

went  back  to  bed.  "  I  ought  to  be  teaching  school 
this  very  minute.  If  not  this  very  minute,  nine 
o'clock  this  morrow  morning.  Oh,  dear,  what  a 
pity  that  children  grow  up.  I  wish  I  were  a  little 
girl  again." 

She  fell  asleep  after  a  while,  but  she  awoke 
several  times  before  morning,  and  went  over  the 
affair  again.  When  she  awoke  in  the  morning,  it 
was  with  a  consciousness  of  a  weight  on  her 
mind.  She  made  a  failure  of  eating  her  break- 
fast, and  called  down  a  scolding  from  Miss  Hen- 
shawe  for  letting  such  a  silly  thing  as  that  Rich- 
ardson affair  worry  her. 

Nan  went  to  the  art-school,  and  did  her  work 
in  some  fashion,  she  scarcely  knew  how.  It  was 
criticism  day,  and  the  instructor  was  in  what  the 
students  were  wont  to  call  "  a  mood."  He  dis- 
pensed his  remarks  very  freely,  and  when  he 
came  to  Nan's  easel,  he  made  no  comment  for  a 
moment.  "  It's  coming,"  thought  poor  Nan.  "  I 
deserve  it;  I  know  I  can't  paint." 

"  Miss  Wynkoop,  there  is  no  excuse  for  such 
work  from  you,"  he  said  curtly,  and  passed  on. 

She  sat  with  bowed  head,  feeling  as  if  she  had 
been  struck,  when  the  girl  whose  easel  stood 
next  to  her  said,  "  That  was  a  compliment  worth 
having." 

Nan  raised  her  eyes,  "  A  compliment  ?  "  she  re- 
peated.    "  I  feel  as  if  he  had  boxed  my  ears." 

*'  You  are  very  foolish.     It  was  a  compliment 


it 2  Anntce  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

to  your  every-day  work,  a  great  compliment.     I 
wish  he  had  said  it  to  me." 

It  was  time  for  the  class  to  stop  work,  and  Nan 
wearily  gathered  up  her  paints  and  brushes,  and 
put  them  in  her  locker.  She  felt  as  if  she  never 
wanted  to  see  them  again. 

A  number  of  the  art  students  were  in  the  car 
she  took.  Ordinarily,  she  enjoyed  the  ride  up- 
town, and  did  her  share  of  the  conversation, 
but  to-day  everything  jarred  on  her.  After  a 
luncheon  with  Miss  Minerva,  she  went  to  see 
Miss  Frost,  but  found  that  she  was  out  of  town 
and  would  not  return  till  evening.  Nan  stood 
undecided  ;  she  did  not  want  to  go  home,  though 
there  was  some  work  to  be  done  for  the  Headlight. 
She  couldn't  work ;  there  was  no  sense  in  making 
the  attempt.  She  walked  along  in  an  aimless 
way,  hardly  knowing  in  what  direction  she  went. 
After  a  few  moments,  she  found  herself  passing  a 
small  church.  Beside  the  door  was  the  invita- 
tion, "  Come  ye  apart,  and  rest  a  while."  Nan 
went  in  and  sat  down  not  far  from  tjie  door. 
One  or  two  people,  evidently  strangers  in  the 
city,  were  looking  at  the  windows.  Now  and 
then  a  quietly-dressed  woman  walked  in,  perhaps 
dropped  on  her  knees  a  moment,  and  then  went 
out  again,  the  calm  expression  on  her  face  prov- 
ing the  truth  of  the  words  over  the  door  :  "  This  is 
the  house  of  God,  the  very  gate  of  heaven." 

Nan  lowered  her  own  head.     She  did  not  frame 


Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist.  ii^ 

any  petition,  but  in  some  way  she  made  known 
to  the  pitying  All-Father  that  she  was  lonely  and 
downcast,  and  that  she  needed  help.  When, 
after  a  moment,  she  raised  her  head,  she  did  not 
leave  the  church.  Presently  the  organist  slipped 
before  the  organ  and  began  his  daily  practice. 
The  music  soothed  her,  and  she  still  kept  her 
seat  till  the  practice  hour  was  over  and  the 
organist  locked  his  instrument. 

She  walked  home  with  a  lighter  step  than  she 
had  come.  Life  was  still  worth  living.  She 
could  look  up,  and  out,  and  beyond.  To  Miss 
Henshawe's  great  relief,  she  did  justice  to  her 
dinner,  and  when  some  artistic  people  called,  she 
did  her  share  of  the  entertainment. 

When  she  went  to  her  room  that  night  she 
treated  the  pictures  with  the  usual  respect. 

The  first  mail  in  the  morning  brought  a  check 
from  Mr.  Richardson,  p^re,  for  thirty-one  dollars. 
He  explained  that  he  had  taken  the  liberty  of 
adding  twenty-five  dollars  to  the  amount  due  Miss 
Wynkoop.  No  doubt  she  had  been  much  annoyed 
by  the  afTair  of  Tuesday,  and  he  hoped  she  would 
accept  this  little  do?ms  as  a  testimony  of  his  re- 
spect. 

"  He  has  even  worse  taste  than  I  gave  him  credit 
for,"  said  Nan,  passing  the  note  and  check  over 
to  Miss  Henshaw.  "  No  doubt  he  means  well 
enough.  Do  these  people  think  that  money  is 
everything  to  a  working  woman?  " 


214  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

Nan  returned  the  check,  with  a  brief  note,  de- 
cHning  Mr.  Richardson's  bonus,  and  requesting 
him  to  send  her  a  check  for  exactly  six  dollars, 
which  he  did  by  return  mail. 

Nan  cashed  the  check  and  put  the  money  in 
her  well-worn  little  purse.  That  ended  her  ac- 
quaintance with  the  Richardson  family. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

As  Nan  neared  her  own  door  one  afternoon 
she  saw  an  old  lady  standing  in  the  vestibule  of 
the  opposite  house.  Her  hands  were  full  of  par- 
cels and  small  satchels,  and  she  carried  in  addition 
a  large  pot  of  sweet  rose  geranium.  She  seemed 
to  be  trying  to  find  her  way  into  the  apartment 
house,  for  she  peered  at  the  names  under  the  bells 
and  carefully  examined  the  number  on  the  door, 
comparing  it  with  a  number  on  a  slip  of  paper  in 
her  hand.  Then  she  rang  the  janitor's  bell,  but 
to  no  purpose  ;  evidently  that  functionary  was  out. 

Nan  watched  her  for  a  moment,  than  she  ran 
across  the  street  to  offer  her  assistance.  The  little 
old  woman's  figure  looked  familiar,  and  as  Nan 
spoke  she  turned,  and  said  :  "  Will  you  tell  me 
how  to  get  into  these  pesky  flat  houses?  I  want 
to  find  my  granddaughter,  Annice  Wynkoop. 
She's  an  artist,  perhaps  you  have  heard  of  her. 
I  know  this  is  the  right  number,  or  it  ought  to  be, 
for  the  next  one  is  66.  If  67  doesn't  come  next 
to  ()^,  I'd  like  to  know  why=  If  I  could  find  my 
spectacles,  I'd  read  these  names  better;  but  I 
can't  seem  to  make  *em  out." 
315 


2i6  Annice    Wy7ikooJ),  Artist. 

"  Yes  ;  I  have  heard  of  your  granddaughter," 
said  Nan.  "  The  truth  is,  I  know  her  very  well, 
but  I  don't  think  much  of  her." 

Grandma  turned  indignantly  on  the  speaker,  and 
then  she  did  not  need  her  spectacles  to  help  her. 

"  Why,  Nan  Wynkoop  !  " 

"  Why,  Grandma  Wynkoop !  How  did  you 
ever  happen  to  drop  down  here.  I'm  so  surprised 
I  can't  believe  my  eyes." 

"  I  don't  see  why  I  shouldn't  come  to  New  York 
if  I  want  to.     It's  a  free  country,  ain't  it?  " 

"  Of  course,  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you,  but  I 
wish  I  had  known  you  were  coming." 

"  Why  ?  Your  pa  wanted  me  to  write  you,  but 
I  was  afraid  you'd  make  up  some  excuse  and  try 
to  keep  me  to  home." 

"No;  I  wouldn't,  only  I  would  have  met  you, 
and  you  wouldn't  have  had  so  much  trouble  to 
find  me.  Come  over  to  the  flat.  You  are  on  the 
wrong  side  of  the  street." 

Nan  took  the  bags  and  bundles,  but  grandma 
wouldn't  give  up  the  flower  pot.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments Nan  had  the  old  lady  resting  in  a  large  chair 
in  the  studio. 

Both  Miss  Henshawand  Miss  Minerva  were  out, 
so  Nan  had  all  the  honors  to  do.  She  lighted  the 
alcohol  lamp  and  made  tea  for  grandma,  the  old 
lady  looking  her  approval. 

"  It's  the  best  thing  I've  tasted  since  last  night. 
I  was  so  flustered  that  I  couldn't  eat  my  break- 


"  Why,  Grandma  Wynkoop !  How  did  you  ever  happen  to  drop  down  here?" 
—Page  216,  dnnice  Wimhoop. 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  21  y 

fast.  Your  ma  put  me  up  a  lunch,  but  the  cars 
jolted  so  that  I  couldn't  eat.  He  wanted  me  to 
get  out  at  Poughkeepsie  and  get  a  lunch,  but 
I  thought  there  was  no  use  in  wasting  money 
when  I  had  more  lunch  than  I  could  eat  in  my 
bag." 

"  Who  is  /te,  grandma  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that's  telling.  Yes,  I'll  have  another  cup. 
That's  a  pretty  teapot.  Do  you  know  what  it 
cost  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  it  probably  cost  a  good  deal.  Clara 
is  very  extravagant  about  china,  and  she  is  collect- 
ing teapots.  Won't  you  have  something  more  ? 
Now,  lie  down  on  this  couch  and  rest." 

"  I  never  lie  down  in  the  daytime,  you  know 
that  very  well.  The  tea  rested  me.  Do  you 
know  where  the  Henshawes  get  their  tea  ?  I 
wouldn't  mind  taking  a  half-pound  of  that  to  your 
ma.  I  am  comfortable,  I  tell  you.  No,  I  don't 
want  a  footstool.  My,  how  many  jim-cracks  there 
are  in  this  room.  I  should  think  it  would  keep 
you  busy  dusting  it." 

"  It  wouldn  't  get  dusted  very  often  if  Miss 
Minerva  didn't  do  it.  Now,  Grandma  Wynkoop, 
I  want  to  know  how  you  came,  and  who  you  came 
with." 

"  I  came  on  the  cars,  of  course.  Did  you  think 
I  walked?" 

"  Who  did  you  come  with?  " 

"  Haven't  I  got  sense  enough  to  come  alone  ? 


21 8  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

Couldn't  your  pa  or  your  uncle  David  put  me  on 
the  train  at  Macedonia?" 

"  I  know  you  didn't  come  alone  ;  and,  besides, 
you  said  something  about  he  wanting  to  get 
luncheon  for  you." 

"  It  was  the  teacher,  if  you  must  know.  Ain't 
he  got  a  right  to  come  to  New  York  if  he  wants 
to?" 

"  Certainly,  I  have  no  objections.  If  you  came 
with  Mr.  Bamford  why  didn't  he  see  that  you 
reached  here  safely  ?  " 

"  Because  I  wouldn't  let  him.  I  told  him  that 
I  didn't  know  how  you  would  feel  about  his 
coming,  and  I'd  come  alone.  He  was  mighty  set 
about  coming  with  me  ;  but  teacher  or  no  teacher, 
I  had  my  way.  So  he  put  me  in  one  of  those 
things  with  two  wheels,  with  a  man  sitting  up  in 
the  air  behind,  what  do  you  call  'em  ?  " 

"  Hansoms  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  homely  would  come  nearer  the  truth. 
I  felt  as  if  I  was  locked  up  in  a  cupboard  with 
those  doors  shut  in  front  of  me.  The  teacher,  he 
told  th?  driver  where  to  drive,  and  he  gave  him 
money,  and  away  we  went  in  great  style,  me  a-jolt- 
ing  till  I  thought  my  bonnet  would  come  off. 
When  we  got  pretty  near  your  number  I  told  the 
man  to  let  me  out.  But  says  he,  '  the  young  man 
told  me  not  to  let  you  out  till  you  were  at  the  right 
place.  '  *  Never  mind,'  says  I,  '  what  the  young 
man  said.    You  are  dealing  with  the  old  woman 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  219 

now.'  He  kind  of  grinned  at  that,  and  he  opened 
the  cupboard  from  behind  some  way,  and  I  got 
out.  I  walked  along  till  I  came  to  66.  That 
number  I  saw  very  plainly,  but  I  couldn't  make 
out  the  6^  on  the  next  one.  Then  I  looked  at 
the  names,  but  I  couldn't  find  any  Henshawes. 
Just  as  I  was  looking  for  my  spectacles  you  came 
along." 

"  You  were  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  street, 
grandma.  You  were  on  the  side  where  the  even 
numbers  were  ;  we  are  on  the  odd  side," 

"  I  guess  the  whole  thing  is  odd  enough.  I 
couldn't  find  a  knocker  nor  a  door  bell  or  any- 
thing, but  one  bell  that  said  janitor,  and  I  pulled 
that  for  good,  but  nobody  came." 

"  To-morrow,  I'll  show  you  how  to  get  into  an 
apartment  house.  It  is  quite  an  intricate  affair. 
Are  they  all  well  at  home  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  all  but  your  pa.  He's  got  a  felon  on  his 
finger,  and  of  course,  it  had  to  come  right  in  the 
time  when  he  ought  to  be  drawing  his  cord  wood. 
Your  pa  is  unlucky.  Your  ma  sent  you  some 
jelly,  and  Charlotte  made  you  a  chocolate  cake. 
The  things  are  in  my  trunk  up  to  the  depot." 

"  I'll  go  out  and  get  an  expressman  if  you  will 
give  me  your  check." 

"  I've  got  it  tied  up  in  a  corner  of  my  pocket 
handkerchief,  but  the  trunk  ain't  a-coming  here, 
Nan." 

"Why  not?" 


220  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

"  Because  I  ain't  a-going  to  stay  here,  I'm 
going  to  put  up  at  the  Astor  House." 

"  The  Astor  House  !  Why  it's  way  down  town. 
You  have  got  to  stay  here.  There  is  plenty  of 
room." 

"  No  doubt  you  and  the  Henshawes  think 
there  is  plenty  of  room,  but  I  ain't  used  to  sleep- 
ing in  a  folding-bed  in  a  room  about  as  big  as  a 
quart  cup. " 

"  You  needn't  sleep  in  a  folding-bed.  We 
haven't  one  in  the  apartment,  for  we  all  despise 
them.  You  shall  have  my  room,  and  I'll  room 
with  Clara." 

"  No  ;  I  don't  mean  to  put  anybody  out.  I'm 
a-going  to  the  Astor  House.  That's  where  your 
grandpa  and  I  put  up  when  we  came  down  in 
1864.  We  were  at  the  Astor  House  four  days, 
and  I  tell  you  they  sent  in  a  bill.  But  it  was 
worth  it.  Such  polite  servants  I  If  you  just 
moved  your  little  finger  they  seemed  to  know 
what  you  wanted.  Oh,  it  was  very  stylish!  I 
want  to  go  there  again,  but  I  don't  mean  to  stay 
there.  I've  just  got  my  interest  money,  and  I 
mean  to  have  a  good  time  once  in  my  life.  I'm 
going  to  Central  Park,  and  to  Greenwood  burying- 
ground,  and  I'm  going  to  take  a  carriage,  a  real 
carriage,  not  one  of  those  hansom  things,  and 
drive  around  the  town  to  my  heart's  content ;  I 
don't  care  if  it  costs  as  much  as  a  dollar.  I  want 
to  see  the  Brooklyn  Bridge  and  the  statue   of 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  221 

Liberty,  and  I  mean  to  have  a  good  time.  Your 
grandpa  and  I  had  a  good  time.  We  ate  in 
restaurants,  and  we  heard  Beecher  preach,  and 
we  went  to  a  show.  It  was  East  Lynne,  and  your 
grandpa  and  I  both  cried.  We  didn't  let  it  get 
out  in  Macedonia  that  we'd  been  to  a  theater,  for 
it  wouldn't  have  done.  Your  grandpa  was  deacon 
in  the  church.  Yes  ;  we  had  a  good  time,  but  it 
cost  considerable.  I  remember  it  was  in  the  fall, 
just  after  thanksgiving,  and  we  came  down  on 
the  turkeys,  and  we  went  back  on  the  year- 
ling." 

The  Henshawes  came  in  just  then  from  a  calling 
expedition.  They  were  both  pleased  to  see  Mrs. 
Wynkoop.  Clara's  welcome  was  very  flattering 
to  the  old  lady.  Miss  Minerva  was,  of  course, 
less  enthusiastic,  but  grandma  felt  "  drawn  to 
her,"  as  she  afterward  explained  to  Nan.  The 
pot  of  rose  geranium  which  grandma  had  been 
holding  all  this  time,  proved  to  be  for  Miss 
Minerva,  who  accepted  it  with  cordial  thanks. 
After  an  hour's  chat,  grandma  rose,  saying  she 
must  be  going.  Nan  looked  quite  nonplussed, 
for  she  knew  how  strong  was  the  old  lady's  will, 
and  that  if  she  had  set  her  heart  upon  "putting 
up  "  at  the  Astor  House,  nothing  short  of  lock 
and  key  would  stop  her.  Nan  followed  Clara  into 
her  room  and  hastily  explained  the  situation. 

Miss  Henshawe  sat  down  on  the  bed  and 
laughed  till  she  cried.    "  Isn't  it  too  funny  ?    Oh,  I 


222  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

always  said  she  was  as  good  as  a  play.  Don't 
worry,  Nan  ;    we'll  circumvent  her  somehow." 

"  You  don't  know  Grandma  Wynkoop  as  well 
as  I  do." 

"  Leave  her  to  me.  I'll  keep  her  from  going  to 
the  Astor  House  to-night,  and  we'll  trust  to  luck 
for  to-morrow." 

"  I'm  real  glad  you  came  to-night,  grandma,  for 
you'll  see  some  one  you  are  curious  about." 

"  That  Frost  man  who  gets  so  much  for  his 
pictures,  and  goes  out  West  to  dig  holes  in  the 
ground  ?  " 

"  No,  he  is  out  West  now,  digging  holes.  I'm 
sorry  that  you  can't  see  him.  But  Mr.  Parrish  is 
coming  to  dinner,  and  you'll  find  him  very  enter- 
taining. If  you'll  tell  me  where  Mr.  Bamford  is 
I'll  send  for  him  to  come  to  dinner." 

"  Why,  he's  going  to  stop  for  me  at  half-past 
five  to  take  me  to  the  Astor  House.  He  never 
puts  up  there,  but  he  said  he'd  go  if  I  was  set  on 
it,  and  I  am.     But  perhaps  he'll  stop  to  supper." 

"  I  am  sure  he  will.  Now  you  come  into  Nan's 
room  and  freshen  yourself  up  a  bit  before  dinner. 
It's  quite  a  trip  from  Macedonia." 

"  I  don't  mind  the  trip.  I've  traveled  a  good 
deal  in  my  time.  My  husband,  Nan's  grandfather, 
and  I  went  to  Buffalo  twice.  Is  this  where  Nan 
rooms  ?  Of  course  she'd  have  pictures  and  such 
stuff  about,  or  it  wouldn't  be  Nan.  How  is  she 
doing?     Is  she  improving?" 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  223 

"  Yes ;  that  child  is  a  genius.  It  is  a  pity  that 
she  has  to  think  about  ways  and  means  so  much. 
She  illustrates  for  some  papers,  and  does  some 
other  work  afternoons.  It  tires  her  and  takes  the 
time  which  she  might  rather  spend  on  her  work." 

"  Humph  !  I  thought  Harriet  was  paying  her 
way  this  year." 

"  Nan  takes  as  little  help  as  possible  ;  she  does 
quite  a  good  deal  toward  her  expenses.  It  would 
be  a  pity  if  the  child  should  break  down,  for  she 
has  great  gifts." 

"  It  would  be  poor  economy.  I'll  see  if  I 
haven't  some  money  in  an  old  stocking  when  I 
go  home.  I  don't  understand  Nan,  but,  if  she's 
bound  to  paint  all  her  life,  I  want  her  to  have  a 
good  chance.  Sometimes  I  think  it's  better  to 
give  your  money  away  while  you  are  alive,  and 
can  see  it  do  some  good,  than  to  leave  it  for  folks 
to  quarrel  over." 

"  I  am  sure  you  are  right,"  Miss  Henshawe  as- 
sented. "  Poor  Nan  is  having  rather  a  hard  time, 
though  she  won't  own  it.  She  is  very  independ- 
ent." 

"  She  takes  that  after  me.  I  would  have  been 
a  regular  new  woman  if  I  had  lived  now.  I  don't 
know  but  I  might  have  been  an  artist.  Don't  tell 
anybody  this  ;  it  is  between  you  and  me." 

Grandma  was  smoothing  the  crimps,  so  Miss 
Henshawe  could  indulge  in  the  smile  which  would 
not  be  controlled. 


224  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

"  How  is  Nan  having  a  hard  time?  "  grandma 
demanded,  when  the  hair  was  arranged  to  her  sat- 
isfaction. "  I  thought  she  was  having  a  pretty 
easy  time.  She  wears  her  good  clothes  every  day, 
and  does  nothing  but  paint.  Emma  Anna  and 
Charlotte  work  hard.  Emma  Anna  has  to  fit  all 
sorts  of  folks,  and  they  are  hard  to  suit.  The  thin 
ones  want  their  dresses  made  so  they'll  look  fat, 
and  the  fat  ones  want  to  look  lean.  I  tell  you,  it 
is  hard  work.  Then  Charlotte  has  a  hard  school. 
I  wouldn't  teach  school ;  I'd  go  to  the  poor-house 
first.  I  didn't  blame  Nan  when  she  up  and  said 
she  wouldn't  teach  school.  Harriet  gets  her  liv- 
ing easy.  She  just  sits  there  the  whole  day  long 
and  writes  on  library  cards  and  gives  out  books. 
And  she  makes  considerable  more  than  Emma 
Anna  or  Charlotte.  I  wonder  how  much  longer 
Nan  will  need  to  study  before  she  can  support 
herself." 

"  Oh,  it  will  take  a  good  deal  of  study,  grandma. 
But  when  she  does  get  able  to  work  for  herself 
she  will  make  more  money  than  all  her  sisters 
together." 

Mrs.  Wynkoop  opened  her  eyes.  "  Mercy ! 
She'll  do  'most  as  well  as  those  painting  men  she 
tells  about.     I  didn't  suppose  she  worked  hard." 

"  She  does,  though.  As  I  said,  she  has  a  hard 
time,"  Miss  Henshawe  went  on,  determined  to 
make  the  most  of  her  opportunity  to  win  grand- 
ma's sympathy.     "  I  believe  I'll  tell  her  about  the 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  225 

Richardson  business,"  she  said  to  herself ;  "  it  may 
open  her  purse  strings." 

Grandma  was  just  as  indignant  as  Miss  Hen- 
shawe  had  wished  her  to  be.  When  she  had  freed 
her  mind  a  Httle,  she  began  to  trace  the  genealogy 
of  the  Richardson  family. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  a  bit  if  they  belonged  to 
those  Tim  Richardsons  I  used  to  know  when  I 
first  moved  to  Macedonia.  They  moved  to 
Brooklyn,  at  least  they  moved  somewhere  down 
this  way,  and  I  heard  they  were  making  money, 
hand  over  fist.  I  always  knew  there  was  some- 
thing wrong  with  them,  and  they  wouldn't  come 
to  any  good.  I  wonder  what  kind  of  a  looking 
man  this  Ben  Richardson  was.     Did  Nan  say  ?  " 

"  No.  Now  grandma,  you  mustn't  let  Nan 
know  that  I  told  you  about  this.  She  would  be 
angry  with  me." 

"  Goodness,  child,  I  ain't  so  old  that  I  can't  keep 
a  secret,  but  I'd  hke  to  know  how  this  Ben  Rich- 
ardson looks." 

"  I  didn't  say  that  his  name  was  Ben  Richard 
son.     I  don't  know  what  it  is." 

"  It  must  be  Ben.  Tim  was  his  father's  name. 
and  Ben  was  the  oldest  child.  He'd  be  about  old 
enough  now  to  have  a  young  upstart  of  a  son 
And  it's  just  like  the  Richardsons  to  set  a  great 
deal  by  their  family.  Not  that  they  have  any 
thing  to  be  proud  of.  The  Wynkoops  have  al 
ways  been  better  people.  Nan  is  good  enough 
15 


226  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

for  anybody.  Why,  she  could  have  had  the 
teacher  just  as  well  as  not.  Don't  let  her  know 
that  I  told  you  this. 

"  Now  that  I  think  of  it,  Tim  Richardson's  sis- 
ter married  a  man  who  was  in  a  bank,  and  he  stole 
from  the  bank,  and  they  had  a  dreadful  to-do 
over  it." 

Just  here  Mrs.  Wynkoop's  study  of  the  Rich- 
ardson family  tree  was  cut  short  by  Miss  Minerva, 
who  announced  Mr.  Bamford's  arrival. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Miss  Henshawe's  little  dinner  was  a  great  suc- 
cess, even  grandma  acknowledged  that  it  was. 
Mr.  Bamford  accepted  an  invitation  to  remain, 
and  as  grandma  afterwards  remarked,  "he  was 
quite  lively,"  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  Mr. 
Parrish  was  present.  That  gentleman  fell  a  victim 
to  Grandma  Wynkoop's  charms,  and  strange  to 
say,  she  seemed  to  like  him.  He  devoted  himself 
to  her,  and  gave  her  his  arm  to  the  dining-room. 
At  first  grandma  was  inclined  to  resent  this  atten- 
tion, as  a  hint  that  her  age  made  support  neces- 
sary, but  when  she  saw  Miss  Henshawe  take  Mr. 
Bamford's  arm,  she  concluded  that  it  was  a  New 
York  "notion." 

When  soup  was  placed  before  her.  Miss  Min- 
erva's own  particular  soup,  she  was  about  to  de- 
cline it,  on  the  ground  that  she  did  not  need  any 
beef  tea,  but  as  the  others  were  being  served,  she 
concluded  to  partake  of  it.  She  was  very  anxious 
not  to  do  anything  which  would  mortify  Nan,  and 
she  thought  it  would  have  been  better  could  she 
have  polished  up  her  society  manner  by  a  brief 
stay  at  the  Astor  House.  When  in  her  own  home 
she  had  possessed  many  times  the  value  of  the 
227 


228  Annice   Wyiikoop,  Artist. 

worldly  goods  of  the  Henshawes,  but  there  was 
something  about  the  cheap  little  flat  which  im- 
pressed her.  She  enjoyed  the  dinner  and  the 
bright  conversation  which  went  on  around  her, 
and  she  felt  that  this  was  society.  She  was  glad 
that  Nan  had  such  opportunities,  and  she  was 
elated  that  the  teacher  could  see  her  in  such  sur- 
roundings. 

She  did  not  go  to  the  Astor  House  that  even- 
ing ;  she  slept  in  Nan's  bed.  As  she  said  at 
breakfast,  it  gave  her  a  spooky  feeling  to  wake 
up  and  see  a  lot  of  queer  faces  looking  down 
from  the  wall.  Nan  laughed  and  admitted  that 
the  eiifect  might  be  uncanny  if  one  was  unaccus- 
tomed to  it. 

During  the  day  Mrs.Wynkoop  carried  out  her 
intention  of  putting  up  at  the  Astor  House. 
Nan  knew  that  she  might  as  well  yield  first  as 
last,  but  she  exacted  a  promise  that  after  grandma 
had  done  the  Brooklyn  Bridge,  Greenwood,  and 
the  Statue  of  Liberty,  she  would  return  to  the 
flat.  Mr.  Bam  ford  would  return  to  Macedonia  in 
a  couple  of  days,  and  then  she  would  come  back 
to  Nan  and  Clara. 

She  kept  her  promise,  and  came  back  happy 
and  important.  She  had  seen  all  she  wanted  to 
see,  and  more.  Mr.  Bamford  was  a  capital  one  to 
go  around  with  ;  they  had  been  to  St.  Paul's 
Church  and  she  had  sat  in  the  pew  where  George 
Washington  used  to  sit,  and   they  had    visited 


Annice   Wyttkoop,  Artist.  229 

Alexander  Hamilton's  grave  in  Trinity  church- 
yard. Besides  this,  they  had  gone  to  Staten 
Island  on  the  ferry  and  called  on  Mr.  Bam- 
ford's  folks,  and  had  taken  a  long  trolley  ride  on 
the  island. 

Mr.  Bamford  was  to  leave  at  midnight,  but  he 
told  Nan  he  had  one  more  treat  in  store  for  her 
grandmother.  He  wanted  to  take  her  to  see  Joe 
Jefferson.  Did  Nan  think  she  would  go  to  the 
theater  ?  Nan  replied  that  she  thought  she 
would,  provided  no  one  in  Macedonia  found  it  out. 
Mr.  Bamford  smilingly  assured  her  that  he  would 
never  divulge  the  secret,  and  Nan  promised  to 
have  her  grandmother  ready  when  Mr.  Bamford 
should  call. 

"  It  can't  be  any  harm,"  said  grandma,  who  had 
her  bonnet  on  an  hour  before  Mr.  Bamford  could 
reasonably  be  expected.  "  Clara  says  Joseph  Jef- 
ferson is  a  good  man,  and  that  the  play  is  all 
about  things  that  happened  in  the  Catskill 
mountains,  our  own  Catskills.  Nan,  I  shouldn't 
wonder  a  bit  if  Joseph  Jefferson  had  boarded 
there  some  summer.  I  don't  believe  in  going  to 
the  theater,  but  Clara  says  it  is  a  real  moral  play. 
I  wouldn't  want  you  to  go,  Nan,  if  it  wasn't.  I 
wish  Miss  Minerva  was  going.  Didn't  the  teacher 
ask  her?" 

"  Yes,  but  she  has  seen  it,  and  she  seldom  goes 
out." 

"Clara  is  going?" 


230  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist, 

"  Yes  ;  she  is  going." 

"  It's  real  nice  of  Mr.  Bamford,  but  it  will  be 
expensive.  I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  offer  to  pay 
my  way  and  yours  too." 

"  I  think  you  would  better  not,  grandma.  I 
think  Mr.  Bamford  really  wants  to  take  you.  Of 
course  it  is  quite  proper  for  Clara  and  me  to  go  to 
chaperon  you  giddy  young  people." 

"  The  teacher  is  young.  You  always  act  as  if 
he  wasn't.  Nannie,  you  ought  to  have  taken  the 
teacher.  He's  a  nice  young  man,  and  he  won't 
stay  in  Macedonia  long.  He  is  figuring  on 
another  place  ;  he  told  me  so.  He's  been  seeing 
an  educational  bureau  man  ;  that's  part  of  his 
business  down.  Do  you  think  he  has  given  you 
up?" 

"  I  am  sure  he  has.  Grandma  Wynkoop,  if  you 
ever  say  anything  to  him " 

"  I  hope  I  know  what  to  say.  Does  my  bonnet 
set  straight  ?     Ain't  he  late  ?  " 

"  No,  there  is  lots  of  time.  I  believe  you 
want  to  go,  grandma.  Don't  pretend  that  you 
don't." 

"  Well,  since  it's  a  moral  play,  and  all  about  our 
own  backyard,  as  you  might  say,  I'd  kind  of  like 
to  see  it." 

They  were  a  trifle  late.  The  curtain  had  risen, 
and  Rip  was  being  roundly  scolded  by  his  rosy- 
cheeked  vrouw  by  thetime  grandma  was  thorough- 
ly settled.     She  swept  the  stage  with  Miss  Hen- 


Annie e  Wynkoop,  Artist.  231 

shawe's  opera  glass,  and  remarked,  "  She'd  never 
get  the  dirt  out  of  the  clothes  by  washing  that 
way. 

"  She's  a  dreadful  scold,  but  I  don't  know  as  I 
blame  her,"  was  the  next  remark.  "  Rip  must 
have  been  dreadful  trying.  He  must  have  had  a 
tidy  little  property  before  he  took  to  drinking. 

"That's  mighty  good  acting,"  Grandma Wyn- 
koop  said  after  a  while.  "  I  declare,  I  forget  every 
once  in  a  while  that  the  whole  thing  ain't  real. 
It's  first-rate  acting,  because  it  might  be  one  of 
those  half  drunk,  half  crazy  Dutchmen,  up  back 
of  Macedonia.  Take  them  when  they  have  been 
to  town  and  are  full  of  liquor — why  Rip  Van 
Winkle  is  the  living  image  of  them." 

"  You  are  right,  grandma.  It's  good  acting, 
for  it  is  just  like  the  Sissons  when  they  are  intox- 
icated." 

"There's  too  much  drinking  in  it  to  suit  me. 
Ain't  he  going  to  reform  and  sign  the  pledge  ?  Yes ; 
he's  saying  he'll  never  drink  another  drop.  How 
glad  Mrs.  Van  Winkle  will  be.  O  dear  me,  there 
he  goes  again." 

Grandma  kept  watching  for  the  hoped-for  re- 
formation all  through  the  play,  and  when  the 
curtain  fell  for  the  last  time  she  sadly  remarked  to 
the  teacher  that  the  play  ought  to  have  had  a 
moral.  It  would  have  been  so  much  better  if 
Rip  had  reformed.  She  had  been  in  tears  half 
the  time,  and  she  was  tired  and  weak  from  the 


232  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

strain  on  her  sympathies.  Nan  got  her  wraps  on 
her  and  when  they  got  her  down  into  the  street 
the  air  revived  her. 

Mr.  Bamford  left  them  at  the  door  of  their 
house,  and  rushed  away  to  catch  the  midnight 
train. 

"  When  are  you  coming  home,  Mrs.  Wynkoop  ?" 
he  asked.     "  Your  son  will  want  to  know." 

"  Tell  them  I  don't  know.  If  my  visit  is  out 
when  Deacon  Halleck  comes  down  I'll  go  back 
with  him.  If  not  I'll  stay  till  I'm  good  and  ready 
to  go  back.  I  don't  know  but  I  might  take  a  notion 
to  stay  down  here  and  learn  to  paint,"  she  added 
this  for  Clara's  benefit. 

Mr.  Bamford  laughed.  "  Well,  good-by,  grand- 
ma.    Have  a  good  time." 

"  I  am.  I'm  real  fashionable.  Mr.  Parrish  is 
going  to  have  a  party  in  his  studio,  and  I  am 
invited." 

"  Invited  ?  I  should  say  you  were.  Grandma 
Wynkoop,  the  party  is  given  in  your  honor." 

"  I'll  tell  the  people  in  Macedonia  how  giddy 
you  are." 

"  Don't  tell  them  that  I  went  to  the  theater." 

"  I  won't,  I  promise.  There  !  I  must  run  for 
that  car  or  I  shall  miss  my  train."  He  shook 
hands  with  the  three  women  and  rushed  away. 

Grandma  certainly  was  very  lively  for  an  old 
lady  of  seventy.  She  partook  of  the  nice  little 
supper  which  Miss  Minerva  had  ready  for  them, 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  233 

and  instead  of  laying  awake  on  account  of  it,  as 
many  an  old  person  would  have  felt  it  her  duty 
to  do,  she  slept  the  sleep  of  the  just. 

Mr.  Parrish's  party  came  off  two  days  after  the 
theater  party.  Grandma  was  full  of  curiosity 
about  his  apartment,  and  when  she  saw  it  she  felt 
that  it  more  than  met  her  expectations.  She 
considered  herself  quite  a  judge  of  studios, 
having  seen  Miss  Henshawe's  and  Miss  Frost's. 
They  went  early,  at  Mr.  Parrish's  request,  so  he 
could  show  her  all  over  the  place.  And  he  did 
display  all  his  treasures,  from  the  desk  which  had 
once  graced  the  palace  of  the  doge  of  Venice 
down  to  the  new  tea-kettle  in  the  kitchen.  Nan 
and  Miss  Henshawe,  having  seen  all  these  things, 
remained  in  the  studio  and  examined  Mr.  Par- 
rish's latest  paintings.  Nan  thought  it  hardly 
fair  of  Miss  Henshawe  to  say  such  scathing 
things  of  his  pictures  behind  the  artist's  back,  but 
that  young  woman  assured  her  that  what  he 
didn't  know  wouldn't  hurt  him,  and  that  she  had 
to  free  her  artistic  soul. 

"You're  only  mad  because  you  haven't  that 
desk  yourself.     I  don't  blame  you;  it's  a  dream." 

"  I'm  so  jealous  that  I  can  scarcely  be  civil 
to  him.  I  have  had  serious  thoughts  of  offer- 
ing to  marry  him  just  so  I  could  have  that 
desk." 

"  I  don't  believe  he  would  accept  you ;  he 
would  suspect  you  of  some  ulterior  motive.     I 


234  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

wonder  who  is  coming  to-day.  Perhaps  it  is  to 
be  only  a  family  party.  ' 

"  Miss  Frost  was  invited,  I  know,  and  a  couple 
of  those  lonfT-haired  friends  of  Basil's.  He  told 
them  to  come  in  all  their  war-paint,  so  that 
grandma  could  get  an  idea  of  Bohemia.  I  am 
more  interested  in  what  we  are  to  have  to  eat 
than  I  am  in  the  company.  I  wonder  what  one 
would  call  this  function?  A  luncheon,  I  suppose." 

"  Grandma  calls  it  a  party." 

"  It's  a  good  word,  so  comprehensive.  Basil 
proposed  giving  a  tea,  but  I  told  him  that  grand- 
ma had  attended  several.  Here  comes  some  one. 
I  hope  it  is  the  boys.  This  is  stupid,  I  must  say- 
I've  made  fun  of  every  picture  and  Basil  is  still 
pottering  around  the  kitchen  cupboard.  I  despise 
such  a  womanly  man." 

The  new  arrivals  turned  out  to  be  the  two 
artist  friends.  They  remained  in  the  dressing- 
room  for  some  time,  and  when  they  came  in  they 
were  attired  in  velvet  blouses,  well  smeared  with 
paint,  and  everything  else  to  harmonize.  Grand- 
ma put  on  her  "  specs  "  in  order  to  get  a  good 
view  of  them.  *'  The  pre-Raphaelite  brother- 
hood "  was  the  name  Miss  Henshawe  had  given 
this  little  coterie,  which  included  Basil. 

"What  do  you  think  of  them,  grandma?" 
asked  Miss  Henshawe,  without  taking  the  trouble 
to  lower  her  voice. 

"  Humph  !     I'd  like  to  see  their  pictures." 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  235 

"  Oh,  no,  you  wouldn't ;  they  are  much  worse 
than  Basil's." 

Miss  Frost  came  presently,  and  as  she  shook 
hands  with  her  host  she  explained  that  her 
brother  was  detained,  but  he  would  probably  be 
there  shortly. 

"Her  brother!  'Sit  still,  my  heart,'"  said 
Miss  Henshawe,  turning  to  Nan, 

The  girl's  breath  came  faster,  but  she  con- 
trolled her  color.  "  Thoroughbred  "  was  Miss 
Henshawe's  mental  comment  as  she  turned  to 
tell  grandma  that  the  Frost  man  was  coming. 

"  Fm  real  glad.  Fve  heard  so  much  about  him 
that  I  should  hate  to  go  back  to  Macedonia  with- 
out setting  eyes  on  him.  How  did  he  happen  to 
be  here?     I  thought  he  was  out  West." 

"  I  heard  his  sister  say  that  his  coming  was  a 
surprise  to  her." 

Just  then  Miss  Frost  took  the  chair  next  . 
Grandma  Wynkoop.  "  I  was  so  surprised  to  see 
Theodore  this  morning.  He  rushed  down  on 
some  business  and  goes  back  day  after  to-mor- 
row. Mr.  Parrish  met  him  in  the  street  and  in- 
vited him  to  his What  shall  I  call  it,  Miss 

Henshawe?" 

Miss  Henshawe  shook  her  head,  s  "Nan  and  I 
have  been  wondering.  It  all  depends  on  what  he 
gives  us  to  eat.  Oh,  here  come  some  more 
people !  I  hope  Basil  has  plates  enough  to  go 
around." 


236  Annice    Wynkoop,  Artist. 

By  this  time  a  dozen  people  gathered  in  the 
studio,  and  presently  the  summons  came  to  the 
banquet. 

"  It's  a  spread,"  said  Clara  to  Nan  ;  "  Basil  has 
outdone  himself.  I  hope  there  will  be  a  flaw 
somewhere,  or  he  will  be  so  puffed  up  with  pride 
and  conceit  that  there  will  be  no  managing 
him.  Look  how  pleased  grandma  looks  in  her 
seat  as  guest  of  honor.  She's  a  social  success; 
there's  no  denying  the  fact." 

There  was  no  flaw  in  the  luncheon,  to  Miss 
Henshawe's  disappointment.  Afterward  the  pre- 
Raphaelite  Brotherhood  sang  trios,  and  then  Mr. 
Parrish  performed  on  the  guitar. 

Miss  Henshawe  told  Miss  Frost  that  she  al- 
ways wanted  to  turn  her  back  on  him  when  he 
put  that  green  ribbon  around  his  neck  and 
"touched  the  light  guitar."  He  played  very 
well,  though,  and  received  much  applause. 

Mr.  Frost  did  not  come  in  till  the  festivities 
were  nearly  over.  It  was  impossible  to  get  away 
from  contractors,  as  he  explained  to  Mr.  Parrish. 
Nan  thought  that  that  gentleman  bore  up  bravely 
under  his  disappointment. 

Mr.  Frost  made  his  way  over  to  Miss  Henshawe 
and  Mrs.  Wynkoop.  "  I  should  have  recognized 
you  from  Miss  Wynkoop's  portrait,"  he  said, 
when  he  had  been  duly  presented. 

He  could  not  have  made  a  more  unfortunate 
remark      That  portrait  like  her  I 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  237 

"  He  has  done  it  now,"  whispered  Miss  Hen- 
shawe,  and  Nan,  who  was  talking  to  the  pre- 
Raphelites,  had  the  same  thought.  "  What  a 
good  time  Miss  Henshawe  was  having  with  Mr. 
Frost,"  was  the  next  thought.  The  pre-Raphael- 
ites  were  uninteresting  at  their  best,  and  to-day 
they  were  simply  stupid.  Nan  was  glad  when  Mr. 
Parrish  carried  her  away  to  look  at  some  swords 
andyatagans  which  had  just  been  shipped  to  him. 

Nan  saw  nothing  of  Mr.  Frost  after  he  had 
greeted  her,  but  he  walked  home  with  her,  and  as 
he  bade  her  good-by  at  her  door  he  said  he  would 
call  on  Mrs.  Wynkoop  with  his  sister  the  next 
evening. 

When  Nan  repeated  the  message,  Mrs.  Wyn. 
koop  merely  said  "  Humph  ! "  She  could  not 
forgive  him  for  calling  her  portrait  life-like. 

"  Ain't  Mr.  Parrish  got  any  folks  to  do  for  liim  ?  " 
she  asked.  "  It  seems  kind  of  lonesome  to  live 
that  way.  I  should  think  that  his  sister  or  his 
mother  would  keep  house  for  him.  Perhaps, 
though,  he  is  an  orphan." 

"  Oh,  no.     He  is  well  blessed  with   relatives. 
I  can't  imagine  his  people  coming  here  to  *do, 
for  him,  nor  his  wanting  them.     Why,  bless  you, 
grandma,  he  is  a  regular  old  maid.     He  loves  to 
live  like  that." 

"  I  thought  perhaps  he  hadn't  much  means, 
but  that  party  must  have  cost  him  a  pretty 
penny." 


238  Annice   Wynkoopy  Artist. 

"  It  did ;  caterer  and  everything,  but  he  can 
stand  it.  The  Parrish  family  are  as  rich  as  you 
please.  They  are  great  swells,  Boston  people. 
His  sisters  and  mother  have  no  patience  with 
Basil's  vagaries.  He  always  was  queer.  I've 
known  him  long  before  either  of  us  came  to  New 
York.  No,  grandma,  we  are  not  engaged.  I  see 
you  want  to  ask  that.  He  likes  Nan  a  great  deal 
better  than  he  likes  me." 

Grandma  did  somewhat  unbend  her  dignity 
when  Mr.  and  Miss  Frost  called  the  following 
evening.  She  could  not  resist  Mr.  Frost,  who 
was  in  his  most  genial  mood.  They  sat  on  a  couch 
in  a  corner,  and  she  gave  him  her  views  on  Rip 
Van  Winkle.  He  listened  with  the  most  respect- 
ful attention,  though  Nan  knew  he  was  sufTering 
from  a  desire  to  laugh. 

When  Miss  Frost  said  they  must  go  he  pro- 
posed that  they  go  to  hear  Irvmg  the  next  even- 
ing. "  I  want  Mrs.  Wynkoop  to  see  him  in  the 
Bells.  Let  us  all  go,  we'll  have  a  regular  party. 
rU  leave  for  the  west  a  few  hours  later.  It  won't 
make  any  material  difference.  You'll  go.  Miss 
Wynkoop,  and  you  Miss  Minerva,  and  Miss  Hen- 
shawe  ?  and  I'll  answer  for  Jessica.  No  one  must 
disappoint  me,  for  it  is  the  last  fun  I  shall  have 
for  some  months.  I  shan't  come  east  again  till 
spring." 

Mrs.  Wynkoop  was  a  total  wreck  before  the  end 
of  the  evening.     Nan  was  a  little  anxious,  and 


Aimice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  239 

she  asked  her  if  she  would  like  to  go  home.  Her 
grandmother  gave  her  an  indignant  no.  She  was 
enjoying  herself,  what  would  she  go  home  for? 

"  You  take  it  so  seriously,  grandma.  Try  to 
remember  that  it  is  only  a  play." 

"  You'd  better  advise  me.  Any  one  would 
think  you  were  my  grandmother  instead  of  my 
granddaughter:  There,  I've  lost  a  lot,  talking  to 
you. 

"  I  fear  it  is  too  much  for  her,"  said  Mr.  Frost, 
turning  to  Nan.  "  She  said  a  good  deal  about 
moral  plays,  and  I  thought  I'd  like  to  have  her 
get  an  idea  of  the  ethical  influence  of  the  stage, 
of  which  we  hear  so  much.  I'm  sorry  now,  that 
I  didn't  take  her  to  see  something  cheerful — some 
comedy  for  instance." 

"  Oh,  tragedy  is  more  in  grandma's  line."  I 
think  this  won't  hurt  her.  She  is  having  a  very 
dissipated  time.  I  feel  that  I  never  knew  the 
real  Grandma  Wynkoop  till  she  came  to  New 
York." 

"  Yet  you  painted  what  you  will  perhaps  allow 
me  to  call  a  speaking  likeness.  My  dear  Miss 
Wynkoop,  please  don't  look  at  me  as  if  I  were 
taking  too  much  upon  myself,  but  I  wish  you 
would  study  with  Van  Alstyne.  I  have  wished  it 
ever  since  Miss  Henshawe  showed  me  your  work. 
I  know  that  you  are  in  earnest  about  your  art,  and 
as  a  friend  of  art  and  as  your  friend  I  presume  to. 
advise  you." 


240  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

"  I  can't  go  to  Van  Alstyne  at  present,  Mr. 
Frost,  though  I  do  appreciate  your  kindness  and 
your  sister's." 

"  It  isn't  kindness,  Miss  Wynkoop,"  he  an- 
swered lightly.  "  Wehave prophesied  great  things 
of  you,  and  we  want  to  be  able  to  say  to  the 
world,  '  I  told  you  so.'  Shall  we  have  another 
day  up  the  Bronx  next  summer  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so,"  was  all  Nan  could  say,  for  the 
curtain  rose,  and  grandma  said  "  Ssh  !  " 

Grandma  showed  the  effect  of  late  hours  when 
she  took  her  place  at  the  breakfast  table  next 
morning.  She  admitted  that  she  was  tired  ;  but 
she  wouldn't  have  missed  Irving  for  all  one  year's 
interest  money.  She  had  a  great  deal  to  say 
about  the  ethical  influence  of  the  stage  for  the 
next  few  days,  and  she  did  not  seem  to  mind  if 
all  Macedonia  knew  that  she  had  been  to  the 
theater.  She  even  went  so  far  as  to  say  that  she 
wished  the  minister  had  been  there. 

Deacon  Halleck  was  coming  that  week,  so  Mr. 
Wynkoop  wrote,  and  added  that  he  would  feel 
safer  if  his  mother  would  come  back  with  the 
deacon.  The  old  lady  had  a  mind  to  stay  longer 
to  assert  her  independence,  but  she  really  was 
tired  with  sight-seeing,  and  she  made  her  prepar- 
ations to  go  back  with  the  deacon. 

"  I've  had  a  good  time,"  she  said  as  she  waited 

.  in  the  station  with  Clara  and  Nan.     "  I've  stood 

it  well,  too,  as  well  as  a  woman  of  fifty.     To  think 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  241 

of  the  Welsh  rabbits  I  have  eaten,  and  never  a 
touch  of  dyspepsia.  It's  wonderful.  I'm  glad 
I  bought  one  of  those  chafing  dishes.  It  will  be 
company  for  me.  When  I  get  lonely  and  think 
about  New  York,  I'll  just  cook  something  in  it, 
and  it  will  bring  the  whole  thing  back  to  me.  I 
wonder  if  the  deacon  is  getting  that  trunk  checked 
all  right.     He  is  very  long  about  it." 

Miss  Henshawe,  thinking  that  Mrs.  Wynkoop 
might  have  a  last  word  to  say  to  Nan,  went  to  see 
about  the  check. 

"  There,  I  thought  she'd  take  the  hint.  Annice, 
I  have  been  thinking  about  you.  You  are  going 
to  be  a  good  painter,  and  you  ought  to  have  a 
fair  chance.  How  much  did  your  Aunt  Annice 
Woodward  leave  you  ?  " 

"  Three  hundred  dollars." 

"  Well,  I  guess  the  Wynkoop  side  can  do  as 
well  by  you  as  the  Woodward  side.  I'm  going 
to  put  aside  three  hundred  dollars,  and  I  shan't 
say  what  I'll  do  after  that  is  gone.  But  that  will 
take  you  through  this  year,  won't  it." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  cried  Nan,  feeling  that  a  great  bur- 
den had  been  lifted  from  her  shoulders. 

•'  I  want  you  to  study  with  the  Van  Alstyne 
man  they  all  rave  over,  and  try  to'  learn  as  much 
as  you  can  for  your  money.  I  came  to  New  York 
more  on  your  account  than  anything  else.  I 
wanted  to  see  what  kind  of  people  these  painters 
are.  I  like  them,  for  the  most  part.  They  set 
i6 


242  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

a  great  deal  by  you,  and  they  tell  me  they  ex- 
pect you  to  make  your  mark  yet.  There,  don't  try 
to  thank  me.  You're  welcome.  If  you  weren't 
you  wouldn't  get  any  of  my  money.  There 
come  Clara  and  the  deacon.  Yes,  they've  got 
the  check.  You  are  a  nice  girl,  Nan,  and  I'm 
satisfied  with  you.  You  are  different  from  the 
other  girls,  but  somehow  I  like  a  little  variety. 
Yes,  Deacon  Halleck,  I'm  ready  to  go  back  to  the 
country.  Don't  you  think  the  air  feels  like  snow  ? 
Perhaps  there'll  be  sleighing  in  Macedonia." 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

Nan  began  to  study  with  Van  Alstyne  in  Janu- 
ary. It  was  her  grandmother's  wish  that  she 
should  give  up  all  her  outside  work  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  year.  Grandma  herself  would 
"foot  the  bills,"  as  she  wrote  Nan.  Perhaps 
after  this  year  was  up,  Harriet  and  Nan  could 
stand  for  the  expense,  but  grandma  wanted  to 
see  how  much  Nan  would  improve  during  six 
months'  study  with  the  great  Van  Alstyne. 

Nan  felt  like  an  athlete  preparing  for  a  race^ 
who  leaves  off  every  weight.  It  was  such  a  relief 
not  to  be  obliged  to  think  of  anything  but  her 
own  legitimate  work.  Her  home  with  Miss 
Henshawe  and  Miss  Minerva  was  very  pleasant, 
and  she  told  herself  that  never  a  girl  had  a  better 
opportunity  to  learn  to  paint.  Her  friends  be- 
lieved in  her  and  their  faith  was  an  inspiration. 
The  only  trouble  was  that  their  belief  in  her  was 
too  strong ;  they  expected  too  much  of  her. 

As  she  told  Miss  Henshawe,  she  was  so  afraid 
of  Mr.  Van  Alstyne  that  she  knew  she  couldn't 
paint  at  all.  She  found,  however,  when  she 
bearded  the  lion  in  his  den,  that  he  was  not  so 
formidable  as  she  had  feared.  She  worked  away 
243 


244  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

for  a  few  days,  with  very  little  attention  from  Mr. 
Van  Alstyne.  She  was  perishing  to  know  what 
he  thought  of  her  work,  as  she  told  Miss  Hen- 
shawe. 

"  Oh,  he'll  tell  you  quickly  enough.  It's  his 
way  to  keep  quiet  if  he  is  satisfied  with  you. 
Probably  you  paint  so  well  that  he'll  never  say 
anything  till  he  tells  you  that  he  can  teach  you 
nothing  more." 

"  Don't  make  fun  of  me,  Clara.  This  is  life  or 
death  to  me." 

"  It's  more  than  that  to  me,  my  work,  I  mean. 
It's  bread  and  butter.  Dying  is  cheap  enough  ; 
it  is  living  that  costs.  I've  had  three  pairs  of 
shoes  since  July,  and  these  are  getting  shabby, 
I  haven't  had  an  order  for  a  miniature  in  an  age. 
Oh,  dear  !  Times  aren't  what  they  used  to  be. 
We'll  never  get  to  Paris,  Nannie,  if  we  don't  save 
our  pennies." 

"  Save  them  ?  I  shall  have  to  earn  them  first. 
I'm  not  exactly  discouraged,  but  that  Van  Al- 
styne man  makes  me  feel  about  three  years  old." 

"  It  isn't  a  comfortable  feeling.  You  used  to 
have  the  same  sensation  when  Mr.  Frost  talked 
to  you." 

"  Used  to  ?  I  haven't  gotten  over  it.  If  I  didn't 
know  that  he  is  a  gentleman  I  should  feel  sure 
that  he  makes  fun  of  me  sometimes." 

"  Mr.  Van  Alstyne  and  he  are  very  chummy, 
aren't  they  ?  " 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  245 

"Yes;  Miss  Frost  says  they  studied  together 
years  ago  in  Paris." 

"  By  and  by  I  shall  be  able  to  point  to  you  and 
say  with  pride  that  we  studied  together  in  Paris. 
Dear  me,  I  wish  we  had  the  money  that  some 
waste.  I  know  more  girls  than  I  could  mention 
in  a  week  who  go  over,  and  they  never  amount 
to  anything.  It  seems  that  they  have  to  go  there 
before  they  will  believe  that  they  can't  paint.  If 
you  had  the  money  that  Basil  Parrish  has  spent 
in  the  pursuit  of  art  with  a  large  A,  you  might 
be  giving  Van  Alstyne  lessons." 

Nan  laughed.  "  Do  you  suppose  he  will  keep 
on  indefinitely  ?  Not  Van  Alstyne,  I  mean  Mr. 
Parrish," 

"  I  suppose  so.  He  has  money  enough  to  spoil 
him." 

A  few  days  after  Clara  came  in  the  studio, 
where  Nan  sat,  writing  letters  at  the  desk.  "  Pre- 
pare yourself  for  a  shock,"  she  said. 

Nan  turned  white.     "  Is  it  bad  news?'* 

"  You  poor  child,  no.  I  just  saw  Miss  Frost, 
and  she  says  that  Teddy  writes  that  Van  Alstyne 
said  that  Miss  Wynkoop " 

Clara  sat  down  and  began  to  draw  off  her  gloves 
in  a  leisurely  manner. 

"Clara,  tell  me  what  he  wrote.  It's  cruel  to 
keep  me  in  suspense." 

"  He  wrote  that  Miss  Wynkoop  is  a  very  good- 
looking  young  woman." 


246  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

Nan  threw  a  pillow  at  her.  "  Of  course  he 
said  nothing  of  the  kind,  Clara."  This  in  a  par- 
ticularly wheedling  tone. 

"  He  said,  to  quote  Miss  Frost's  words,  which 
no  doubt  were  entirely  or  nearly  verbatim  et 
literatim,  that  Miss  Wynkoop  is  his  most  promis- 
ing pupil." 

Miss  Henshawe  threw  the  pillow  back  at  Nan. 
"  Think  of  that.  Miss  Annice  Wynkoop.  He  has 
some  bright  pupils,  not  to  say  anything  of  those 
who  have  gone  and  distinguished  themselves. 
The  gifted  Miss  Wynkoop  !  " 

"  There  is  no  use  in  pretending  that  I  am  not 
pleased,  for  I  am.  I  am  very  glad  to  know  what 
he  thinks  of  me." 

"  And  wasn't  it  nice  of  Teddy  to  tell  what  he 
said  ?  I  dare  say  that  the  same  Teddy  made  him 
tell.     So,  there." 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  Clara.  The  same  Teddy,  as  you 
are  pleased  to  call  him,  has  probably  forgotten  all 
about  us,  and  he  won't  think  of  us  again  till  next 
summer." 

" '  Wull  ye  no  come  back  again?"*  sang  Miss 
Henshawe,  as  she  went  to  her  room  to  put  away 
her  hat. 

The  winter  flew  by  on  wings.  Nan  worked  with 
all  her  strength,  but  her  mind  was  at  rest,  and  her 
environment  was  so  pleasant  that  she  did  not  fail 
in  health  as  during  the  previous  winter.  Van 
Alstyne  seldom  praised  her  work.     Occasionally 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  247 

he  would  say,  "  Keep  on,  keep  on.  We  shall  see 
what  we  shall  see."  Those  who  knew  his  way- 
assured  Nan  that  these  few  words  from  him  were 
equivalent  to  a  gold  medal  from  anyone  else.  So 
Nan  took  courage  and  did  her  best. 

Miss  Frost  did  not  hesitate  to  say  what  she 
thought  of  Nan's  progress.  The  two  were  very 
good  friends.  Miss  Frost  made  room  for  Nan  to 
work  in  her  studio,  and  the  girl  painted  there 
many  an  afternoon.  Miss  Henshawe  always  in- 
sisted on  talking  when  they  worked  together,  and 
Nan  found  her  flow  of  language  somewhat  dis- 
tracting. 

Mr.  Frost  returned  in  May,  and  from  that  time 
he  came  and  went.  The  Bronx  party  was  re- 
peated, and  many  other  expeditions  were  made. 
Perhaps  there  was  more  fun  than  sketching,  but 
as  Clara  Henshawe  would  often  say,  it  was  getting 
late,  and  it  was  time  they  had  some  relaxation 
after  the  labors  of  the  winter. 

Nan  stayed  in  the  city  and  worked  all  through 
June.  When  Van  Alstyne  left  New  York  for  the 
summer  she  half  reluctantly  packed  her  belong- 
ings and  started  for  Macedonia.  She  would  have 
worked  all  summer  had  there  been  an  opportunity. 

When  she  parted  from  her  friends  it  was  with 
the  assurance  that  the)'  would  meet  during  the 
summer.  Miss  Henshawe  was  to  spend  some 
time  in  Maine,  as  usual,  then  she  would  repeat  her 
visit  to  Macedonia.     The  Frosts  were  to  spend 


248  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

the  summer  in  the  Catskills  ;  they  had  leased  a  cot- 
tage at  Onteora.  Miss  Frost  exacted  a  promise 
from  Nan  that  she  would  visit  them  there,  and 
Nan,  in  her  turn,  promised  to  show  them  Mace- 
donia and  its  suburbs. 

Nan  was  given  quite  an  ovation  when  she  took 
the  train  for  Macedonia.  Of  course,  Miss  Hen- 
shawe  and  Miss  Minerva  were  at  the  station  to  see 
her  off,  and  Miss  Frost  arrived  soon  after  they 
did.  Mr.  Parrish  and  another  of  the  pre-Raphael- 
ites  came  with  flowers,  books,  and  magazines,  and 
Nan  suffered  from  embarrassment  of  riches.  Mr. 
Frost  was  not  there,  whereat  Miss  Henshawe 
wondered  openly.  Nan  owned  to  herself  that  she 
was  disappointed,  though  she  told  Miss  Henshawe 
that  there  was  no  reason  to  expect  him. 

Nan  settled  herself  comfortably  as  the  train 
pulled  out  of  the  station,  and  began  to  cut  the 
leaves  of  the  novel  Mr.  Parrish  had  left  her.  She 
read  a  few  pages,  and  was  resisting  the  temptation 
to  look  at  the  last  chapter  to  see  "  how  it  came 
out,"  when  a  gentleman  stepped  in  the  aisle.  She 
looked  up  to  see  Mr.  Frost. 

"  I  am  so  glad  I  found  you.  I  walked  through 
several  cars,  and  feared  that  I  was  to  be  disap- 
pointed. I  had  business  in  Newburgh,  and  1 
started  a  little  earlier  than  necessary  so  that  we 
might  travel  together." 

Nan  moved  her  bag  and  other  belongings  and 
made  room  for  him  at  her  side.     She  kept  con- 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  249 

gratulating  herself  that  she  was  perfectly  self- 
possessed,  but  at  the  same  time  she  was  so  glad 
to  see  him  that  she  wondered  how  she  managed 
to  keep  the  fact  from  him. 

Of  course  they  talked  art  ;  that  was  a  foregone 
conclusion ;  but  they  talked  of  other  things  as 
well.  Mr.  Frost  pretended  to  be  greatly  sur- 
prised because  Nan  did  not  play  tennis  nor  golf, 
and  had  never  mounted  a  bicycle. 

"  You  simply  must  do  all  these  things  when 
you  come  to  Onteora.  We  are  going  to  live  out 
of  doors  there.  We  shall  do  everything  but 
sketch.    This  summer  is  to  be  devoted  to  play." 

"  I  wonder  what  I  can  offer  to  attract  you  and 
Miss  Frost  to  Macedonia.  Perhaps  if  you  were 
not  so  sure  that  you  will  not  paint,  you  might 
find  something  worth  putting  on  canvas.  We 
are  quite  proud  of  our  own  particular  hills." 

"  I'll  make  one  picture,  at  least,  for  I  promised 
your  grandmother  that  I  would." 

"  I  wonder  what  place  it  is  she  wants  you  to 
paint?  I  can't  remember  that  she  ever  noticed 
the  scenery." 

"  I  don't  know  what  the  picture  is  to  be  about, 
but  it  is  to  be  a  landscape,  three  feet  by  two  and 
one-half  feet ;  and  I  am  to  take  it  to  New  York 
and  have  a  handsome  frame  put  on,  and  send  it 
back  to  her  with  my  bill.  I  had  considerable 
curiosity  as  to  what  she  meant  to  do  with  the 
picture,  but  she  would  not  tell  me  anything." 


250  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

"  It  is  too  bad  for  you  to  be  bothered  with 
such  a  commission.  Of  course  you  won't  think 
of  undertaking  it.  Grandma  has  no  idea  what 
she  asked  of  you." 

"  Don't,  I  beg,  take  my  commission  away  from 
me.  I  most  certainly  shall  paint  that  picture, 
and  have  it  handsomely  framed.  By  the  way, 
grandma  said  I  was  not  to  tell  you.  I  didn't 
think  when  I  began." 

"  I  shall  never  tell.  I  suppose  she  did  not 
want  me  to  know  of  it  for  fear  my  feelings  might 
be  hurt.  She  thinks  it  a  pity  that  I  don't  do 
scenery." 

"You  would  better  stick  to  painting  faces. 
Take  my  advice.  If  I  dared,  I  would  tell  you  all 
that  Van  Alstyne  told  me.  But  I  won't.  You 
have  no  curiosity,  I  hope.  Is  the  next  station 
Newburgh  ?  It  can't  be  possible.  We  shouldn't 
be  well  out  of  Harlem  yet.  I  won't  have  time  to 
tell  you  what  Van  Alstyne  said,  for  I  can't  go 
any  further.  But  I'll  tell  you  either  when  you 
come  to  Onteora  or  when  I  go  to  Macedonia  to 
paint  the  '  scene.'  Good-bye,  Miss  Wynkoop  ;  I 
hope  to  see  you  again  soon." 

Nan  held  the  pre-Raphaelite's  novel  upside  down 
for  a  half  an  hour  or  more,  while  she  sat  absorbed 
in  her  thoughts.  Perhaps  she  was  trying  to  guess 
the  subject  of  the  landscape  which  Mr.  Frost 
had  to  paint. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

It  was  haying  time,  and  Mr.  Wynkoop  was 
busy,  so  Charlotte  drove  Billy  to  the  station  to 
meet  Nan.  Billy  had  reason  to  thank  his  lucky 
stars  that  Charlotte  seldom  drove  him.  She  was 
a  teacher  and  accustomed  to  being  obeyed,  and 
she  checked  Billy's  head  up  till  he  had  quite  an 
air,  and  by  dint  of  clucking  at  him  constantly  and 
applying  the  whip  to  him  judiciously  she  managed 
to  present  quite  a  fine  appearance  as  she  drove 
through  the  town.  Nan  never  attempted  any 
style  with  Billy.  She  usually  loosened  his  check- 
rein  and  let  him  browse  at  will  while  she  mused  or 
read  the  papers  which  she  had  brought  from  the 
post-office.  This  was  an  excellent  plan.  Nan 
knew,  and  Billy  knew,  that  she  could  not  make 
him  hurry,  so  if  she  appeared  to  be  interested 
in  the  Evangelist  or  the  country  paper  so  that  she 
didn't  care  to  drive  fast,  it  might  deceive  people 
on  the  "  turnpike,"  and  it  certainly  was  a  harmless 
deception. 

After  Nan  and  Charlotte  had  left  the  town  be- 
hind them,  Nan  got  out  and  loosened  Billy's 
check  rein. 

"  I  can't  bear  to  have  so  much  style,  Charlotte. 
251 


252  Annice  Wynkoop^  Artist. 

I'm  afraid  that  Billy  will  blame  me  for  his  dis- 
comfort." 

Charlotte  laughed.  "  If  you  and  father  hadn't 
spoiled  Billy  it  would  have  been  better  for  every- 
body concerned.  You  may  as  well  take  the  reins. 
He  knows  you  are  here  and  he  is  prepared  to 
nibble  all  the  bushes  between  here  and  home. 
You  are  looking  well,  Nan.  Much  better  than 
last  year." 

"  I  am  perfectly  well.  I  could  work  the  year 
around,  only  I  want  to  come  home." 

"  I  hope  you  won't  get  so  fond  of  the  city  that 
you  won't  always  want  to  come." 

"  Why,  Charlotte  Wynkoop  !  " 

"You  really  are  a  distinguished  looking  girl. 
It  must  be  something  innate  in  yourself,  for  you 
can't  give  your  clothes  credit  for  it.  Emma  Anna 
will  have  to  sew  for  you  ;  you  must  be  down  to 
your  last  dress.  You  haven't  had  any  clothes  in 
a  long  time." 

"  It  doesn't  make  much  difference.  The  people 
I  see  most  don't  expect  me  to  dress,  and  they  take 
me  just  as  I  am." 

"  Grandma  says  you  are  a  great  belle." 

"  Grandma  was  a  belle  herself.  She  really  was 
giddy.   You  wouldn't  have  known  her,  Charlotte." 

"  Yes,  she  told  us  that  she  went  to  the  theater. 
But  it  was  not  allowed  to  get  outside  of  the  family. 
.Sometimes  I  wish  she  had  never  gone.  She  talks 
a  great  deal  about  the  ethical  influence  of  the 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  253 

stage,  and  as  for  Rip  Van  Winkle,  if  she  has  told 
the  whole  thing  over  once  she  has  told  it  forty 
times.     She  is  very  proud  of  you.  Nan." 

"  There  she  is  now,"  said  Nan,  as  grandma  ap- 
peared at  the  gate.  "  Isn't  she  spry  ?  She  is  a 
marvel,  and  with  her  seventy  years." 

"Yes;  she  can  get  up  and  down  stairs  faster 
than  I  can.  She  makes  me  think  of  what  Wash- 
ington Irving  said  about  Dutch  women.  If  they 
g3t  thin  and  dried  up  as  they  get  old  they  live 
forever.  Well,  grandma,  here  is  your  favorite 
granddaughter,  safe  and  sound." 

"  How  are  all  our  folks  ?  "  was  Mrs.  Wynkoop*s 
first  question. 

"  All  well  and  happy,  and  everybody  sent  love 
to  you." 

"Any  of  them  coming  up  this  summer?" 

"  Yes ;  Clara  will  come,  and  the  Frosts  will  not 
be  far  away." 

"Ain't  he  going  to  Paris  this  summer?  I 
thought  he  said  he  always  went  to  Paris.  He  said 
that  when  I  asked  him  to  come  to  Macedonia.  I 
wanted  to  be  polite  to  him,  for  he  took  us  to  the 
theater.  It  must  have  cost  him  a  pretty  penny, 
too.  Clara  says  they  charge  like  everything  for 
those  boxes." 

"  Oh,  I  fancy  he  could  afford  it." 

"  Has  he  got  money?  I  suppose  he  makes  as 
much  as  four  or  five  times  what  the  teacher  makes. 
You  seen  the  teacher  yet,  Annice  ?  " 


2  54  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

"No,  grandma.  I  haven't  been  home  two 
hours." 

"  I  thought  maybe  you  had  seen  him  in  the 
village." 

"  I  can  wait  till  I  see  him,  I  think." 

"  I  wonder  if  he  has  a  notion  for  Clara,  perhaps." 

"  Perhaps.     I  hope  so,  if  it  suits  them." 

"  Do  you  suppose  Clara  would  be  willing  to 
settle  down  here  .'' " 

"  I  can't  imagine  such  a  thing.  She  would 
rather  be  dead  than  live  outside  of  New  York." 

"  Perhaps  the  teacher  will  try  to  get  a  position 
nearer  New  York." 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,  grandma.  I  hope  he 
will  get  what  he  wants.  I  wish  him  good  luck  in 
all  he  does." 

Nan  dropped  easily  into  her  old  place  at  home. 
Sometimes  she  could  not  realize  that  she  had  been 
away  at  all,  and  the  New  York  life  seemed  like  a 
dream.  She  busied  herself  about  the  house,  giv- 
ing a  helping  hand  here  or  there,  wherever  she 
saw  it  was  needed.  She  made  a  great  effort,  as 
she  confided  to  Harriet,  to  "  stir  up "  Emma 
Anna  and  Charlotte.  It  was  not  an  easy  task,  but 
she  did  now  and  then  succeed  in  getting  them  out 
of  the  old  ruts  for  a  little  while  at  a  time.  If  she 
could  only  get  them  to  change  their  scene !  But 
if  she  spoke  to  Charlotte  about  trying  to  secure 
another  position,  she  was  met  with  the  reply  that 
it  would  be  very  foolish  to  make  amove ;  she  was 


Annice  Wynhoop,  Artist.  255 

used  to  people  and  things  in  Macedonia,  and  she 
disliked  to  meet  new  people  and  try  new  ways. 

"  It's  actually  a  wonder  that  Emma  Anna  doesn't 
make  dresses  after  the  fashion  of  fifteen  years 
ago,"  Nan  said  to  Harriet,  after  one  of  her  futile 
conversations  with  her  older  sisters. 

"  I  suppose  she  would  if  people  would  buy 
them,"  was  Harriet's  reply.  "  Her  dressmaking 
answers  every  purpose  that  society  does  for  other 
people.  The  arrival  of  a  new  Delineator  is  as  good 
as  the  opera.  She  really  does  take  an  artistic 
pleasure  in  making  dresses,  poor  Emma  Anna. 
She  makes  her  dresses  well,  there  is  no  denying 
that." 

"  Of  course  she  does.  Just  think  what  prices 
she  could  command  in  New  York.  Harriet,  I 
wish  we  could  move  them  all  down.  Do  you 
think  they  would  be  contented?" 

"  I  know  they  wouldn't.  Father  and  mother 
would  be  completely  stranded,  and  yet  I  believe 
they  would  mind  the:  uprooting  less  than  Emma 
Anna,  and  Charlotte.  I  should  go  wild  if  I  lived 
such  a  jog-trot  life.  Mine  is  dull  enough,  but 
compared  to  theirs  it  is  wildly  exciting.  Statis- 
tics go  to  prove  that  more  than  half  the  cases  of 
insanity  among  women  hail  from  farmhouses. 
The  monotony  of  such  an  existence,  it  is  claimed, 
affects  the  brain  more  than  the  noise  and  whirl  of 
the  city." 

**  Miss  Frost  often  speaks  of  the  women  who 


256  Annice   Wynkoop^  Artist. 

live  alone  in  the  city — those  who  keep  house 
alone.  She  says  they  always  get  queer  and  talk 
to  themselves.  I  used  to  wish,  winter  before 
last,  that  I  could  be  alone.  But  really,  Harriet,  I 
often  think  that  it  might  be  practicable  to  take  a 
small  house  in  Brooklyn  and  all  live  together. 
You  girls  could  work  there  as  well  as  here,  and 
you  would  realize  so  much  more  for  your  labor." 

Harriet  shook  her  head.  "  No,  Nan,  for  once 
in  your  life  your  calculation  is  poor.  We  are  a 
great  deal  better  off  here,  poor  as  we  are.  There 
are  so  many  things  here  on  which  we  can  put  no 
money  value.  It  is  hard  on  you  to  be  the  only 
one  in  the  city,  but  it  will  have  to  be  so.  You 
will  work  at  your  art  all  the  year  and  in  the  sum- 
mer you  will  come  to  us.  I  feel  quite  well  satis- 
fied about  you  so  long  as  you  are  with  the  Hen- 
shawes.  By  and  by,  when  you  are  a  successful 
painter,  we  will  come  down,  one  or  two  at  a  time, 
and  bask  in  your  glory." 

"  If  there  is  ever  any  glory  to  bask  in  you  may 
thank  yourself  for  it." 

"  Oh,  no.  I  have  done  very  little  for  you  yet. 
Grandma  came  to  the  front  early  in  the  year  and 
took  all  your  expenses  on  herself.  She  has  a 
hard  task  laid  out  for  you  this  summer." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  A  portrait  of  Grandpa  Wynkoop.  She  has 
an  ambrotype,  and  she  wants  you  to  enlarge  it 
and  dress  him  in  modern  clothes.     She  said  if 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  257 

you  could  do  that  she'd  ahnost  feel  like  paying 
your  expenses  for  another  year." 

"  She  ought  to  send  it  to  the  girls  who  make 
crayon  portraits  from  photographs.  It  is  more 
in  their  line.  I'll  get  Clara  to  paint  a  miniature 
of  grandpa,  and  grandma  can  wear  it  as  a  breast- 
pin. He  was  a  handsome  old  man,  and  in  that 
old-fashioned  dress  he  would  make  a  fine  minia- 
ture. However,  I'll  try  it — I'll  try  anything  that 
grandma  wants  me  to  do.  She  has  been  very 
generous  to  me,  and  what  makes  it  seem  all  the 
more  generous  is  that  she  considers  painting  fol- 
de-rol." 

"  Oh,  no  she  doesn't.  She  really  has  a  great 
deal  of  respect  for  the  profession.  Grandma 
thinks  a  great  deal  of  the  mighty  dollar,  you 
know,  and  she  never  tires  of  telling  what  fabulous 
prices  some  artists  command.  Then,  too,  I  be- 
lieve she  loves  art  for  its  own  sake,"  added  Har- 
riet, laughing.  "  She  sometimes  says  that  it  is 
quite  likely  that  she  would  be  an  artist  if  she 
were  young  now.  Oh,  grandma  is  a  vet-y  pro- 
gressive young  lady  !  She  likes  society,  as  she 
calls  it,  and  she  is  anxious  to  have  Miss  Hen- 
shawe  and  the  Frosts  come.  She  did  all  her 
other  visiting  early,  so  she  would  be  here  when 
the  fun  vvas  going  on." 

The  portrait  of  Grandpa  Wynkoop  proved  to 
be  a  hard  task,  but  Nan  accomplished  it  in  a 
manner  to  suit  even  grandmas  high  ideas  of  art. 
17 


258  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

She  hung  it  on  the  wall  of  her  room  and  proudly 
said  that  she  wished  Van  Alstyne  could  see  it. 

She  handed  Nan  a  roll  of  bills,  and,  nodding 
her  head  mysteriously,  told  her  that  she  might 
as  well  put  that  money  away  toward  her  wedding 
clothes.- 

Nan  was  so  surprised  that  she  couldn't  reply 
for  a  whole  moment ;  then  she  said :  "  Why, 
grandma,  you  would  better  let  me  spend  it  for  a 
winter  dress  to  work  in.  Clara  will  need  the 
wedding  gown  long  before  I  will.  Mr.  Bamford 
seems  very  anxious  to  know  when  she  is  coming." 

"  The  teacher  ain't  the  only  man  in  the  State  of 
New  York,  is  he?" 

"  No." 

"  I  ain't  referring  to  the  teacher  at  all.  I  have 
given  up  that  affair.  I  see  that  you  and  he 
would  never  have  made  it  go.  He's  too  master- 
ful. You  are  like  me,  you  have  a  will  of  your 
own.  Your  grandpa  wasn't  one  of  those  master- 
ful men ;  he  was  always  reasonable,  and  he  let 
me  advise  him  for  his  good.  If  you  get  a  hus- 
band as  good  as  Jonas  Wynkoop  you'll  be 
lucky." 

"  But  I  don't  expect  to  have  any  at  all,  grand- 
ma. As  Clara  says,  she  and  I  are  wedded  to  our 
art."  Nan's  eyes  twinkled  as  she  waited  for  the 
reply.     It  was  short  but  expressive, — 

"Fiddlesticks!" 


CHAPTER   XXIY. 

Nan  had  postponed  her  visit  to  the  Frosts'  at 
Onteora  for  one  reason  or  another,  till  Miss  Frost 
lost  her  patience.  At  last,  in  August,  she  sent 
for  Nan,  saying  she  expected  her  to  answer  the 
letter  in  person  before  the  end  of  the  week,  or  she 
should  come  after  her.  If  Miss  Henshawe  was 
there  she  must  come  with  Nan. 

Miss  Henshawe  was  there,  and  upon  receipt  of 
Miss  Frost's  message  she  immediately  began  to 
pack  her  trunk,  and  she  also  partly  packed  Nan's. 
When  Nan  went  upstairs  she  found  Miss  Hen- 
shawe in  a  thin  wrapper,  with  her  hair  hanging 
down  her  back  in  a  braid. 

"  I'm  packing,"  said  she,  "  and  I'm  going  to 
Onteora  to-morrow  morning.     So  are  you." 

"  I  can't  go  so  soon.  I  must  have  my  white 
gowns  laundered,  and  Emma  Anna  was  just  say- 
ing she  must  do  quite  a  little  sewing  for  me 
before  I  can  go." 

"  Let  the  sewing  go.  It  won't  take  long  to 
have  the  dresses  laundered.  I'll  wash  and  iron 
them  myself  if  you'll  wear  them  after  they  are 
done  ?  " 

Nan  laughed.  "  I  see  you  are  anxious  to  go. 
259 


26o  Annie e  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

Perhaps  we  can  get  away  on  Saturday.  I  think 
it  will  be  safe  to  write  Miss  Frost  to  that  effect. 
But  I  must  say,  Clara,  that  your  haste  to  get 
away  isn't  complimentary  to  Macedonia." 

"  I  never  thought  of  that.  Nan.  I  hope  I 
haven't  hurt  your  feelings.  Of  course  I  like  all 
your  people,  but  it  stands  to  reason  that  I  like 
you  best,  and  I  am  not  going  to  leave  you.  I 
wonder  that  you  care  so  little  about  going  to  see 
Miss  Frost.  I  should  think  you  would  be  anxious 
to  see  her." 

**  You  needn't  put  so  much  stress  upon  the 
pronoun,  Clara,  I  understand  you." 

"  Now,  I  want  to  sec  him,  and  I  confess  it 
freely."  Miss  Henshawe  made  a  dive  down  to 
the  bottom  of  her  trunk,  and  when  she  came  up 
for  fresh  air,  she  went  on,  "  I  believe  you  are 
afraid  of  Theodore  Frost." 

"  I  am  afraid  of  no  one,  man  or  woman,  Clara 
Henshawe.  I  can't  quarrel  with  you,  for  you  are 
my  guest,  but  I  can  leave  you,  and  I  will.  I'm 
going  to  make  a  pudding  for  dinner." 

"  Have  hard  sauce,  there's  a  dear  good  child," 
Miss  Henshawe  called  after  her. 

The  Frosts  had  a  very  pleasant  cottage  at 
Onteora.  They  rented  it  of  a  well-known  literary 
woman,  who  was  spending  her  summer  abroad. 
It  was  simply,  but  comfortably  furnished,  and  the 
brother  and  sister  were  making  themselves  very 
much  at  home. 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  261 

Miss  Frost  told  Nan  that  she  felt  like  shaking 
her  for  making  her  wait  so  long,  but  she  forgave 
her  and  showed  her  to  a  green-and-white  chamber. 

"  I  knew  your  preference  for  green,  so  I  gave 
Miss  Henshawe  the  pink  one." 

"  If  there  is  any  one  color  more  unbecoming  to 
me  than  another,  it  is  pink,"  said  Miss  Henshawe 
to  Nan  when  Miss  Frost  had  gone  down.  "  But 
I'm  willing  to  be  made  a  martyr  of  if  your 
aesthetic  eye  is  suited." 

The  days  in  the  cottage,  or  rather  the  days 
outside  the  cottage,  were  delightful  ones,  for 
they  were  seldom  indoors  unless  it  rained.  The 
weather  was  what  Miss  Henshawe  called  ideal, 
and  they  made  the  most  of  it.  When  they  weren't 
playing  tennis  they  were  taking  long  tramps 
through  the  woods,  or,  if  golf  did  not  attract 
them,  it  was  archery. 

Miss  Frost  met  the  girls  at  breakfast  one  morn- 
ing with  a  long  face.  "  Isn't  it  a  shame?  Theo- 
dore has  to  go  to  New  York  this  morning  to  see 
about  some  tiresome  contract.  He  may  not  get 
back  till  Thursday.     I  could  cry." 

"  So  could  I."  Mr.  Frost  came  through  the  low 
window.  "  I'll  be  back  as  soon  as  I  can,  Jess,  you 
may  be  sure  of  that.  I  expect  you  to  be  good 
children  and  give  an  excellent  account  of  your- 
selves when  I  come  back." 

"  I  shall  be  afraid,  Teddy.  You  may  be  away 
two  nights,  you  say." 


262  Annice  Wynhoop,  Artist. 

Mr.  Frost  gave  a  long  whistle.  "  I  hadn't 
thought  of  such  a  thing  as  your  being  afraid,  Jess. 
Why  should  you  ?  There  are  four  of  you,  count- 
ing the  cook.  If  it  will  make  you  feel  more 
secure,  make  the  second  girl  stay  at  night." 

"  Oh,  I  wouldn't  feel  secure  if  I  had  seven 
women.  I  never  feel  safe  in  the  country  unless 
there  is  a  man  in  the  house." 

"  Miss  Wynkoop  is  smiling.  I  know  she  thinks 
you  very  foolish.  Do  you  expect  to  be  afraid, 
Miss  Henshawe?" 

"  I'm  the  biggest  coward  in  the  world." 

"  i'm  sure  that  Miss  Wynkoop  isn't  cowardly. 
I'm  going  to  put  you  in  charge  of  the  garrison, 
Captain  Wynkoop," 

"  I'll  defend  it  with  the  last  drop  of  my  blood," 
returned  Nan,  shouldering  Mr.  Frost's  umbrella 
with  a  martial  air. 

"  There,  girls,  you  are  safe.  Miss  Wynkoop 
will  take  charge  of  you.  It's  time  I  was  starting. 
All  get  your  hats  and  walk  to  the  station  with  me." 

The  first  night  passed  without  anything  to 
alarm  the  timid  ones.  Miss  Frost  congratulated 
herself  and  the  others  that  they  had  lived  through 
the  night." 

That  afternoon  the  cook  told  Nan  that  there 
had  been  an  attempt,  a  few  nights  before,  to  rob 
a  cottage  not  far  away  from  theirs.  Nan  asked 
her  not  to  tell  Miss  Frost,  and  promised  that  she 
would  sleep  "  with  one  eye  open." 


Aiinice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  263 

Miss  Frost  made  the  tour  of  the  cottage  at  least 
twice,  to  see  that  all  the  doors  and  windows  were 
locked.  Next,  she  looked  under  all  the  beds  and 
in  all  the  closets.  This  done  she  commended 
herself  and  guests  to  Providence,  and  the  house 
was  soon  quiet.  For  some  reason  Nan  could  not 
get  asleep.  When,  at  last,  she  lost  herself  it  was 
to  dream  of  burglars  and  defenceless  garrisons. 
It  was  nearly  two  o'clock  when  she  awoke  with  a 
start.  She  had  heard  nothing,  yet  she  found  her- 
self putting  on  her  bedroom  slippers  and  slipping 
a  loose  wrapper  over  her  head.  No  one  heard 
her  as  she  passed  the  other  chambers.  The 
housemaid's  closet  was  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 
Nan  softly  opened  the  door  and  took  out  a 
broom.  Of  course  nothing  was  wrong,  she  told 
herself,  but  there  was  no  harm  in  taking  the 
broom. 

The  parlor,  library,  and  dining-room  were  con- 
nected, and  they  were  separated  only  by  portieres  ; 
there  were  no  doors.  Nan  made  her  way  through 
the  parlor.  Nothing  was  wrong  there,  but  she 
pushed  on  through  the  library  to  the  dining-room 
door.  The  heavy  portiere  was  drawn  across  the 
doorway,  but  she  saw  a  faint  glimmer  of  light. 
Her  heart  was  knocking  against  her  ribs  so  that 
she  could  almost  hear  it,  but  there  was  no  going 
back  now ;  she  must  know  why  that  light  was 
there.  In  a  moment  she  was  peering  into  the 
dining-room.     Two  men  were  kneeling  on   the 


264  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

floor,  with  their  backs  toward  her,  and  they  were 
packing  the  silver  into  a  bag. 

Poor  Captain  Wynkoop  !  She  did  not  hesitate 
for  more  than  a  minute  or  two,  but  it  seemed  to 
her  that  she  was  an  hour  in  making  up  her  mind 
what  to  do.  No  doubt  these  men  were  armed, 
and  if  they  heard  her  they  would  shoot  her.  Life 
seemed  very  sweet  to  Nan  just  then,  and  she  was 
tempted  to  slip  away  upstairs  and  let  the  burglars 
have  the  silver. 

Just  then  there  flashed  through  her  mind  the 
text  of  the  last  sermon  she  had  heard  in  New 
York. 

"And  the  Lord  said  unto  him.  What  is  in  thine 
hand?    And  he  said,  A  Rod." 

The  lesson  drawn  from  the  text  was  that  we 
should  use  the  means  at  our  disposal.  All  this 
went  through  N.an's  brain  in  an  instant.  If  one 
had  only  a  broom,  then  one  should  use  a  broom. 
The  next  instant  she  found  herself  darting  for- 
ward, still  noiselessly.  The  broom  came  down  on 
the  candle  and  put  the  flame  out  before  the  two 
men  knew  what  had  done  it.  Nan  dropped  the 
broom,  and  it  fell  with  a  noise.  She  ran  into  the 
library,  meaning  to  hide  somewhere,  but  she  fell 
over  a  chair  and  made  more  noise.  Oh,  would  the 
men  go,  or  would  they  follow  her  ?  No,  they  were 
getting  out  of  the  dining-room  window. 

Nan  began  to  feel  queer ;  she  must  go  upstairs. 
She  wondered  if  people  felt  this  way  when  they 


Annice  Wyjtkoop,  Artist.  265 

fainted.  She  really  ought  to  see  if  the  men  took 
the  silver. 

There  was  a  step  on  the  piazza.  Were  they 
coming  back?  No,  someone  was  putting  a  key 
in  the  latch.  Nan  struggled  to  her  feet.  "  Who 
is  there  ?  "  she  asked. 

'Theodore,  of  course.  Is  that  you,  Jess?" 
still  fumbling  with  the  key, 

"  No ;  it's  Annice.  You  can't  get  in.  The  door 
is  bolted." 

"  Annice,"  Mr.  Frost  repeated  the  name  as  she 
had  given  it.  "  Annice,  what  are  you  doing  down 
here  ?     Is  anything  wrong  ?  " 

She  sank  down  on  the  hat  rack.  "  Look  in  the 
dining-room,  there  were  burglars,  but  I  frightened 
them,  I  think."  She  spoke  in  jerks.  "  Go  quick 
and  see." 

"  I'll  see  to  you  first.  Why,  child,  you  are  a 
heroine.  Don't  faint,  Nan,  I'll  open  the  door. 
Do  you  feel  better  ?  Dare  I  leave  you  to  call 
Jess?     You  poor  child." 

*•  Look  in  the  dining-room,  please.  I'm  better 
now.  But  do  be  careful.  Perhaps  they  haven't 
gone,  after  all." 

Mr.  Frost  came  back  in  a  moment  with  a  glass 
of  wine.  "  Drink  this,"  he  commanded,  holding 
the  glass  to  Nan's  lips.  "  They  have  gone,  but 
the  floor  is  strewn  with  silver.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  you  had  real  flesh  and  blood  burglars.  Are 
you  better  ?     Brave  little  Captain  Wynkoop  !     I 


i66  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist, 

knew  you  would  defend  the  garrison.  What  did 
you  do  to  the  enemy  ?  " 

Nan  laughed.  "  I  poked  a  broom  into  their 
candle,  and  they  ran.  Then  I  upset  something 
in  the  library,  then  I  heard  your  latchkey." 

"  Excuse  the  pun,  but  you  made  a  clean  sweep 
of  it,  Miss  Wynkoop." 

Nan  by  this  time,  thanks  to  the  wine,  was  quite 
herself,  and  she  began  to  be  conscious  of  her 
wrapper  and  her  braided  hair. 

"  I'll  go  up  now.  Please  lock  all  the  windows. 
I'm  nervous.     I  didn't  know  I  was  so  cowardly." 

"  Who  is  it  that  says  a  brave  person  is  fright- 
ened after  a  danger?  You  need  to  be  looked 
after.    I'm  going  to  call  Jessica.     Indeed  I  shall." 

Miss  Frost  came  down  in  a  moment.  She  was 
some  time  taking  in  the  situation,  but  when  at 
last  she  did,  she  literally  fell  on  Nan's  neck. 

"You  brave  little  Nan  Wynkoop,"  she  cried. 
"  Oh,  you  poor  child,  you  tremble  yet.  I'm  so 
sorry.     It  must  have  been  a  terrible  strain." 

By  this  time  Miss  Henshawe  appeared  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs,  and  demanded  to  be  told  what 
had  happened. 

Miss  Frost  told  her  in  as  few  words  as  possible. 
And  added,  "  Don't  come  down  ;  we  are  coming 
up." 

"  I  want  to  see  Nan  and  be  sure  that  she  really 
is  not  hurt.  We  might  have  been  murdered  in  our 
beds,"  Miss  Henshawe  wailed. 


Annice  Wynkooj^,  Artist.  idj 

"Let  me  go  to  her.  She  has  hysterics  some- 
times," said  Nan.  "  Really,  Miss  Frost,  I  am  quite 
myself." 

Nan  went  up  to  Miss  Henshawe,  and  Miss  Frost 
called  her  brother  down  and  together  they  went 
through  the  whole  lower  story  and  the  cellar. 

It  was  almost  daybreak  before  the  household 
was  settled  again.  The  cook  wondered  why  every- 
body was  late  for  breakfast.  The  silver  had  been 
put  back  in  its  place  and  the  dining-room  bore  no 
traces  of  last  night's  confusion. 

Nan  heard  so  much  about  her  bravery  that  she 
begged  Miss  Frost  not  to  let  anyone  say  anything 
more  to  her.  She  had  done  nothing  but  her  duty, 
and  she  did  not  deserve  any  praise. 

The  affair,  however,  had  given  Nan  a  severe 
shock.  For  several  nights  she  would  wake  up  in 
a  fright  and  sit  up  in  bed,  trembling  with  fear. 
She  would  not  get  asleep  again  till  day  began  to 
break.  It  was  no  wonder  that  she  did  not  wish 
to  be  reminded  of  her  exploit. 

Miss  Henshawe  thought  the  whole  circumstance 
very  romantic.  It  was  just  like  a  three-volume 
romance  that  Mr.  Frost  came  just  as  Nan  was 
about  to  faint. 

At  this  juncture  Nan  would  indignantly  inter- 
rupt Miss  Henshawe  by  declaring  that  she  didn't 
faint ;  she  never  fainted  in  all  her  life. 

"  Yes,  but  you  would  if  he  hadn't  come  just  as 
he  did.    I  never  saw  you  look  prettier  than  you  did 


268  Annice   tVynkoop,  Artist. 

when  you  came  up  the  stairs.  Your  eyes  were 
big  and  shining  and  your  hair  v/as  all  curled  around 
your  ears  and — " 

Nan  had  heard  all  she  could  stand,  and  she  took 
up  her  tennis  racquet  and  left  Miss  Henshawe  to 
finish  her  description  to  herself. 

Mr.  Frost,  who  was  lying  on  the  lawn  with  his 
cap  over  his  eyes,  sprang  up  as  Nan  approached. 

"  I  don't  know  howl  guessed  you  were  coming, 
for  I  didn't  hear  you.  Are  you  ready  for  a  game  ? 
It  isn't  too  hot  for  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.  I  am  so  wildly  anxious  to  become  a 
good  tennis  player  that  I  don't  mind  the  temper- 
ature. 

"  When  you  come  to  Macedonia  I  shan't  know 
how  to  entertain  you.  I  shall  have  to  take  you 
to  see  the  chickens  and  little  pigs.  Oh,  yes,  we 
can  go  to  drive  the  cows  home.  I  hope  you  are 
not  afraid  of  cows.  I  am.  I  never  see  one  of  our 
own  mild  creatures  that  I  don't  feel  impelled  to 
yell  and  take  to  my  heels." 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  cows,  but  we'll  take  a  broom 
along  as  a  precautionary  measure." 

"  Please  don't  say  anything  about  those  miser- 
able burglars.     I  wish  they  had  never  come." 

"  Why  should  you  ?  It  was  a  beautiful  incident, 
and  it  deserves  to  be  preserved  as  one  of  the 
legends  of  Onteora.  Barbara  Frietchie  is  rothing 
to  it.  If  I  were  a  poet  I  would  write  an  epic  re- 
lating the  heroism  of  one  little  Annice  Wynkooj^ 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  269 

who,  with  her  trusty  broom,  put  two  bold  robbers 
to  flight." 

"  I  don't  see  why  everybody  calls  me  little 
Annice  Wynkoop.  That  is  the  name  I  go  by  in 
Macedonia.  If  it  isn't  that,  it's  the  'youngest 
Wynkoop  girl.'  I'm  not  little.  I  am  five  feet, 
five  inches  in  height,  and  I  weigh  nine  stone." 

"I  beg  your  pardon.  I  did  not  realize  that  you 
were  such  an  imposing  young  woman.  Hereafter 
I  shall  stand  in  awe  of  you.  When  I  write  the 
epic  I  shall  not  fail  to  add  these  facts.  There 
comes  Miss  Henshawe.  What  spirit  moved  her 
to  come  out  here  ?  I  fear  the  afternoon  sun  will 
be  harmful." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  her,"  said  Nan,  with 
much  dignity. 

But  Miss  Henshawe  declined  to  join  them.  She 
didn't  propose  to  work  during  vacation,  and  if 
playing  tennis  on  a  hot  day  was  not  work  she 
would  like  to  know  what  it  was.  So  she  settled 
herself  comfortably  in  the  summer  house  and  the 
game  went  on. 

"  You  forget  about  Grandma  Wynkoop's  land- 
scape," said  Mr.  Frost  when  they  sat  down  to  rest. 
"You  need  not  fear  that  I  shall  have  any  leisure 
time  on  my  hands  while  I  am  in  Macedonia." 

"  I  have  bad  news  for  you.  I  know  this  will 
be  a  blow  to  you,  so  prepare  yourself.  I  think 
that  grandma  has  changed  her  mind  about  the 
landscape.  She  gave  me  an  order  for  a  '  fruit-piece  * 


270  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

some  time  ago,  which  I  promptly  executed.  The 
size  of  that  work  of  art  was  exactly  three  by  two 
and  a  half  feet,  which  leads  me  to  think  that  she 
has  substituted  it  for  the  '  scene.'  I  also  discov- 
ered that  this  picture  is  to  be  a  gift  to  the  min- 
ister." 

"  Do  you  call  that  fair,  taking  my  custom  away 
from  me  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Frost,  fiercely.  "  I  prom- 
ised to  tell  you  all  that  Van  Alstyne  said  about 
you,  did  I  not?  " 

Nan  nodded.  "  I  am  not  curious.  Few  women 
are,  you  know.  It  is  only  men  who  have  much 
curiosity." 

Mr.  Frost  seemed  amused.  "  I  sha'n't  tell  you 
yet.  Perhaps  if  you  are  good  I'll  tell  you  when 
I  come  to  Macedonia." 

"  I'll  be  good.  Mercy,  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so 
late.  Jennie  is  ringing  the  tea  bell  on  the  back 
porch."  Nan  instinctively  put  up  her  hands  to 
her  back  hair.  "And  there  is  Miss  Henshawe  in 
a  fresh  white  dress." 

Nan  rushed  away  to  don  one  of  her  white  dresses, 
and  Mr.  Frost  followed  more  leisurely  with  the 
racquets. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

"  Is  not  Mr.  Bamford  rather  ^pris  with  Miss 
Henshawe?" 

Mr.  Frost  asked  the  question  apropos  of  noth- 
ing in  particular.  He  and  Nan  had  started  to  go 
to  the  tennis  court  "cross  lots,"  but  he  had  sud- 
denly become  tired,  he  said,  and  sat  down  on  the 
stile  that  led  into  the  apple  orchard  while  he 
rested. 

"Your  Macedonian  hills  are  almost  too  much 
for  me.  The  Macedonian  nymphs  walk,  with  such 
a  rapid  pace  that  I  almost  get  the  apoplexy  when 
I  try  to  keep  up  with  them.  You  didn't  answer 
my  question,  Miss  Annice.  I  asked  you  if  you 
suppose  there  is  anything  between  Miss  Hen- 
shawe and  Mr.  Bamford." 

"  They  are  engaged," 

"  Are  you  sure — very  sure  ?" 

"  She  told  me  herself." 

"May  I  throw  up  my  hat?  I'm  so  glad  that 
he  is  engaged  to  her;  I  feared  that  he  was  en- 
gaged to  you." 

"  We  never  were  anything  more  than  friends," 
said  Nan,  demurely. 

"  Since  you  are  not  engaged  to  him,  perhaps 
271 


272  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

some  other  man  may  have  the  right  to  ask  you 
to  become  engaged  to  him." 

"  No  man  has  such  a  right."  This  with  much 
dignity. 

"  We'll  call  it  a  privilege,  then.  Has  another 
man  the  privilege  to  ask  you  to  be  his  wife?" 

"  That  depends  on  who  the  man  is."  Nan'^s 
voice  trembled,  poor  child. 

"This  man  loves  you  very  dearly.  He  began 
to  love  you  that  eveningwhen  you  unconsciously 
made  a  picture  of  yourself  against  Jessica's  red 
curtain." 

**  That  man  is  so  much  wiser  than  I  that  he 
can't  care  for  me  long.  I  believe  that  he  thinks 
he  cares  because  he  says  so ;  but  he  would  soon 
find  that  I  belong  to  a  different  world  from  his, 
and  he  would  be  sorry  that  he — " 

Nan  did  not  finish  the  sentence.  She  turned  and 
pulled  at  the  daisies  which  grew  about  the  stile. 

"  Am  I  too  old  for  you,  darling?  I  know  there 
is  a  good  deal  of  difference  in  our  ages." 

"  I  hate  boys ;  I  always  did." 

Nan's  face  was  bent  over  the  daisies  as  she 
spoke,  but  the  next  moment  it  was  buried  in  Mr. 
Frost's  tennis  coat. 

"  Kiss  me,  Nan,  that's  a  good  child,  and  tell 
me  that  you  forgive  me  for  surprising  you  so. 
There  was  no  other  way  to  make  you  capitulate; 
you  were  so  dignified.  I  believe  I  am  young, 
after  all." 


Nan  did  not  finish  the  sentence.    She  turned  and  pulled  at  the  daisies  which 
grew  about  the  stile,— Page  272.  Annice  Wynkoop. 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  273 

"You  act  so,  I  must  say,"  said  Nan,  who  had 
recovered  her  composure  a  little. 

"  Where  were  we  ?  That  last  move  of  mine 
rather  confused  my  remarks." 

"  Behave  !  "  said  Nan,  in  a  warning  voice.  **  I 
had  an  idea  that  you  were  about  to  propose  to 
me.  Of  course  I  may  have  misunderstood  you, 
but—" 

"  Mischief !  Tell  me,  Nannie,  like  the  brave 
little  woman  that  you  are,  that  you  really  love 
me.  Come,  and  we  will  go  straying  through  the 
old  world  together  and  find  it  a  Paradise." 

The  flush  which  had  been  coming  and  going  in 
Nan's  face  came  again,  deeper  than  ever,  as  she 
put  her  hand  in  the  hand  held  out  to  her.  And 
again  she  was  held  against  the  tennfs  coat.   . 

"  I  didn't  think  that  you  could  be  so — " 

"  So  what,  Nan  ?  " 

"  So  silly,"  she  faltered,  with  her  cheek  against 
Mr.  Frost's.  "  You  say  such  things  to  me.  They 
don't  apply  at  all." 

Nan  held  him  away  from  her  while  she  faced 
him.  "  If  you  ever — tire  of  me  and  wish  that 
you  hadn't — said  all  this  to  me,  you  can  blame 
yourself.     I  warned  you  in  time  that  I " 

Her  eyes  fell  before  the  look  in  the  other  eyes 
and  she  did  not  finish  the  sentence. 

"  Come,  we  ought  to  go  on,  if  we  mean  to  play 
tennis  this  afternoon." 

"  I  don't  care  for  tennis.  Let  us  stay  where 
18 


2/4  Annice   Wynkoop^  Artist. 

we  are.  We  don't  become  engaged  every 
day." 

"  But  what  will  your  sister  and  Miss  Henshawe 
think?" 

"  I'm  not  responsible  for  their  thoughts,  Miss 
Wynkoop.  Jess  might  possibly  guess  if  she  tries 
hard  enough.  Sit  still,  Nan  ;  they  won't  expect 
us  now." 

"  Let  us  go  home  if  you  don't  care  to  play 
tennis.     I'm  going;  you  may  do  as  you  please." 

"Where  thou  goest  I  will  go,  beloved;  and 
where  I  go  you  will  go.  Say  yes.  Nan.  Never 
mind,  you  looked  yes.  I'll  tell  you  where  we  are 
going — straight  to  Paris  four  weeks  from  to-day, 
and  I  sha'n't  think  about  building  bridges  till  we 
have  ransacked  every  corner  of  the  old  world. 
How  does  that  strike  you  for  a  program?" 

"  It  sounds  like  a  fairy  tale.  But  I  wish  you 
to  understand,  Mr,  Frost,  that  I  am  not  to  be 
coaxed  by  sugar  plums.  Do  you  suppose  that  I 
— like  you  any  better  because  you  have  money 
enough  to  take  me  all  over  Europe  than  I  should 
if  you  were  too  poor  to  afford  any  wedding  trip 
at  all?  That  sentence  may  sound  somewhat  in- 
volved, but  I  know  you  will  understand  me.  It 
will  be  delightful  to  live  the  life  you  have 
planned,  but  I  could  work  with  you  and  for  you 
if  need  be." 

Mr.  Frost  grasped  an  apple  tree  for  support. 
"  Nan,   will  you   bring   me   a   little   water   and 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  275 

sprinkle  me  with  it?  I  believe  I  feel  faint. 
Conscript  fathers!  She  has  said  more  than  I 
ever  expected  to  hear,  more  than  she  would  have 
said  if  I  had  coaxed  her  all  day.  Why  didn't 
you  prepare  me  for  this,  Nan?" 

Nan  looked  puzzled  for  a  moment.  Then  she 
flushed  a  deep  red,  even  to  her  ears.  "  Oh,  I  didn't 
mean — at  least,  that  is  to  say — I  was  so  afraid 
that  you  might  think  that  I  wanted  you  for 
your  money,  that  I  spoke  my  thoughts  out- 
right." 

Mr.  Frost  seemed  to  enjoy  himself  immensely. 

"  Nan,  you  are  forgiven,  and  I  promise  not  to 
tease  you  more  than  I  can  help.  There  is  no 
danger  that  I  shall  ever  tire  of  you,  you  are  too 
piquant  and  original.  Besides,  I  love  you  as  I 
love  my  own  soul.  Tell  me,  girlie,  how  long  since 
I  supplanted  Bamford  ?  " 

"  He  never  was  anything  to  me,  but  he  almost 
made  me  think  that  I  ought  to  marry  him.  His 
fidelity  touched  me,  and  everybody  thought  that 
I  ought  to  marry  him." 

"  Go  on,  please.  When  did  you  decide  that 
you  couldn't  marry  him  ?  I  want  to  know  how 
long  you  have  loved  me.  Honest  now,  Annice. 
You  needn't  mind  confessing  to  me.  It  is  all  in 
the  family,  you  know." 

"  It  was  the  day  you  took  us  to  Bronx  Park ; 
the  first  time,  you  know."  Nan's  voice  dropped 
almost  to  a  whisper.     "  That  day  and  every  day 


2/6  Annice   Wynkoop^  Artist. 

since  I  have  known  what  love  is,  and  though  I  did 
not  dare  think  that  you  really — " 

"  Oh,  fill  up  these  blank  places,  Miss  Wynkoop 
You  didn't  really  dare — poor  child — think  that  I 
really — " 

"  Loved  me,"  faltered  Nan,  "  but  I  couldn't 
think  of  any  other  man.  I  could  live  alone  all  my 
life,  and  keep  my  secret  to  myself,  but  I  couldn't 
put  any  one  in  your  place,  or  in  the  place  I  had 
made  for  you." 

"  My  little  Nan  !  If  I  had  only  known  !  I  wanted 
to  speak  long  ago,  but  I  thought  you  belonged  to 
Bamford.  Parrish — confound  him — told  me  that 
you  and  the  school  teacher  were  engaged,  and 
Jessica  said  she  feared  that  it  was  so.  If  you 
weren't  exactly  engaged,  I  feared  that  matters 
had  gone  too  far  for  me  to  hope  for  a  chance.  I 
wish  I  had  known." 

"  I  wish  you  had.  I  have  suffered  so  over  this. 
In  your  eyes  I  saw  myself  a  silly  girl  who  had  let 
her  tell-tale  face  betray  her.  I  mean  that  Bronx 
day.  After  that  I  made  myself  behave.  But  I 
hated  myself  for  weeks.  I  saw  then  that  I  had 
no  right  to  let  the  Bamford  affair  run  on,  and  I 
made  myself  understood.  I  believe  Mr.  Bamford 
liked  Miss  Henshawe  all  the  time,  but  he  was  too 
obstinate  to  own  it  till  just  now." 

"  My  little  Nan  Wynkoop." 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  will  persist  in  calling  me 
little.    I'm  not  little,  I'm  tall." 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  277 

"You  are  just  right." 

"  Don't  say  that  I  am  just  as  high  as  your  heart. 
I'm  a  good  deal  higher.  Stand  up.  There !  I 
come  ahnost  to  your  eyes." 

"  You  are  taller  than  I  thought ;  quite  a  queenly 
height." 

"  Please  don't  say  anything  about  'A daughter 
of  the  gods,  divinely  tall,'  etc." 

"  Nan,  you  are  a  regular  tyrant.  If  you  mean 
to  nag  me  like  this  I  would  better  beat  a  retreat 
while  there  is  an  opportunity." 

"  It  is  too  late  now.  Besides,  Mr.  Bamford 
has  deserted  me.  I  fear  you'll  have  to  keep  your 
contract,  Mr.  Frost." 

"What  is  my  name?"  he  asked,  with  his  lips 
on  hers. 

*'  Teddy.  And  it's  a  most  ridiculous  name  for 
a  big  man  like  you.  I  can't  bear  the  name  of 
Theodore,  though  !" 

"  Then  you'll  have  to  call  me  Teddy.  It  is  a 
good  name — quite  as  good  as  Nan." 

"I  admit  that.  Nan  and  Teddy,  Teddy  and 
Nan.  It  sounds  as  if  we  might  be  ten  years  old, 
I  wearing  a  sunbonnet,  and  you  a  gingham 
*  jumper.' 

"  I'm  going  home.  You  may  suit  yourself. 
There  come  your  sister  and  Clara  now.  Please, 
Mr.  Frost,  don't  let  them  know " 

"  I  most  certainly  shall.  Stop  calling  me 
Mister.     It's  ridiculous.     I  won't  have  it.     If  you 


2/8  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

don't  like  my  name  invent  one  to  suit.  You  are 
not  lacking  in  imagination.  Where  are  you 
going?  "  catching  her  by  her  sleeve. 

"  Please  don't  tell  your  sister  now.  That's  a 
dear  boy." 

"  You  can't  bind  me  over  to  silence  by  your 
blandishments.  I  want  to  see  my  sister.  Would 
you  separate  a  man  from  his  sister  ?  " 

"  See  her.  I'm  going  to  take  a  short  cut.  I 
won't  see  them  now." 

"If  you  run  away  I  shall  shout,  so  that  the 
whole  neighborhood  can  hear  me,  '  There  goes 
my  beloved  Annice,  fleeing  from  her  disconsolate 
Theodore!'  You  would  much  better  stay,  dear." 

"  Tyrant !  I  suppose  I  must.  But  spare  my 
blushes,  and  I'll  call  you  Teddy." 

"Good  child!  Oh,  I  say,  Jess,  hurry.  We 
have  been  waiting  for  you." 

"  Waiting  for  us  ?  My  dear  Theodore  !  we 
have  waited  more  than  an  hour  for  you.  Where 
have  you  been  ?  " 

"  Right  here  on  this  stile,  and  we  have  been 
getting  engaged.  Don't  say  anything  to  Nan, 
for  I  have  promised  her  that  no  one  but  myself 
shall  be  allowed  to  make  her  blush."  And  Mr. 
Frost  held  his  racquet  before  Nan's  face. 

"  A  good  piece  of  work,  Teddy.  I  won't  say 
anything  to  Nan  now,  but  perhaps  she  can  guess 
how  glad  I  am.  I  suppose  you  are  ofT  for  a 
vacation  with  your  wife  under  your  arm." 


Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  2/0 

"  Yes ;  just  as  soon  as  I  can  make  Nan  get 
ready.  We  are  off  on  the  long  trail,  and  we  may 
not  be  back  for  a  year.  You'd  better  come  with 
us,  Jess." 

"  Thank  you  ;  but  I  should  only  be  in.  the 
way.  I  may  meet  you  in  Paris  nqxt  winter.  Is 
Nan  going  to  paint,  or  have  you  spoiled  her 
career?  " 

"  Answer  her,  Nan." 

Miss  Frost  and  her  brother  were  walking  to- 
gether, and  Nan  and  Miss  Henshawe  were  follow- 
ing behind.  Miss  Frost  halted  and  repeated  her 
question. 

"  I  am  going  to  Paris  to  study  art,"  said  Nan 
with  much  dignity.  "  Mr.  Frost  always  proph- 
esied that  I  would  go." 

"  And  I  fancy  that  he  had  an  idea  that  when 
you  went  it  would  be  in  a  personally  conducted 
party,"  laughed  Miss  Frost.  "  Theodore  is  a  most 
transparent  character." 

Miss  Henshawe  had  been  so  quiet  that  Nan 
was  really  worried.  Could  it  be  possible  that 
Clara  had  really  cared  for  Mr.  Frost?  If  not, 
why  was  she  so  still?  " 

Nan  was  dressing  for  tea  when  Miss  Henshawe 
tapped  at  the  door. 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Frost,"  she  began,  "  perhaps  I 
am  not  a  true  prophet.  Will  you  own  now  that 
Mr.  Frost  is  interested  in  you  ? 

*'  It  has  that  appearance,"  Nan  replied  with  a 


28o  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

happy  little  laugh.  "  You  have  been  engaged  as 
much  as  a  week,  and  you  can't  resist  patronizing 
me  a  little,  I  see." 

"  Oh,  there  is  nothing  romantic  about  my  en- 
gagement.    The  teacher  wanted  you  first." 

"  Perhaps  he  thought  he  did,  but  I  daresay  he 
has  forgotten  it.  You'll  get  along  with  him 
beautifully,  and  he'll  thank  his  lucky  stars  that 
he  isn't  in  Mr.  Frost's  shoes — " 

"  Where  is  the  great  Teddy?  I  forgot,  I 
mustn't  call  him  that  any  more." 

"  I  don't  mind,  and  he  doesn't  know  it.  He 
has  gone  back  to  the  hotel.  I  told  him  he  might 
stay  and  have  supper  in  his  tennis  clothes,  but 
he  said  they  were  not  dignified  enough  for  a  man 
in  his  position.  He  will  be  back,  though,  I  ex- 
pect, later  in  the  evening." 

"  The  teacher  and  I  will  take  ourselves  out  of 
the  way.  We  are  going  for  a  drive.  We'll  never 
go  to  Paris  together,  Nan,  and  it's  a  shame.  It's 
almost  a  pity  to  marry  at  all,  and  lose  all  interest 
in  your  work." 

"  I  don't  intend  to  lose  my  interest.  I  expect 
to  do  better  work  than  I  should  if  this  hadn't 
happened.  I  can't  help  painting  with  Mr.  Frost 
to  encourage  me." 

"  Wait  and  see.  I  predict  that  in  five  years 
you  will  have  forgotten  that  you  ever  cared  about 
paints  and  brushes." 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  281 

"  Wait  and  see,"  repeated  Nan.  "  By  that  time 
I  shall  show  you  a  picture  worth  doing." 

"  Do  you  want  to  know  what  Van  Alstyne 
said  ?"  Mr.  Frost  asked  Nan  as  they  sat  on  the 
porch  that  evening. 

"  Do  you  want  to  tell  me  ?  You  have  been 
threatening  to  tell  me  for  a  long  time." 

"You  see,  my  child,  I  couldn't  tell  you  with- 
out telling  you  something  else  first.  I  performed 
that  duty  this  afternoon,  and  now  for  the  story. 

"  It's  this.  Van  Alstyne  said  to  me  that  Miss 
Wynkoop  had  a  future  unless  she  married,  and  all 
the  women  who  knew  how  to  paint  were  sure  to 
marry.  I  said  Ah  or  something  to  that  effect,  but 
as  you  may  imagine,  I  had  my  thoughts. 

"  *  It  all  depends,  of  course,  on  the  kind  of  man 
she  marries.'  Van  Alstyne  went  on.  '  If  she 
should  happen  to  fall  into  the  hands — I  think 
arms  sound  better — of  an  artist,  who  would  help 
her  instead  of  hampering  her,  she  would  astonish 
you.' 

"  Still  I  said  nothing,  and  Van  Alstyne  had  the 
impertinence  to  say,  '  If  you  were  not  such  a 
confirmed  bachelor  I  might  suspect  that  you 
were  interested  in  Miss  Wynkoop.' 

"  Of  course  I  was  shocked,  and  hastened  to  ex- 
plain that  I  was  interested  in  you  because  my 
sister  liked  you,  and  because  I  wished  to  see  the 
cause  of  art  prosper. 

"  But  my  remarks  seemed  to  have  no  impres- 


282  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

sion  upon  Van  Alstyne,  for  he  said,  *  You  would 
better  marry  her  yourself,  Theodore.  I  advise 
you  to  think  about  it.' 

*'  So  I  began  to  accustom  myself  to  the  idea, 
till  it  lost  its  terror.  I  love  art,  and  so,  purely  in 
the  interest  of  art,  I  came  to  Macedonia,  and  you 
know  the  rest,  Nan." 

*'  It's  a  very  good  story,  Teddy.  I,  too,  am 
ready  to  sufTer  a  great  deal  for  art's  sake.  No 
doubt  you  have  guessed  that  I  intend  to  marry 
you  merely  for  the  opportunity  to  study  in 
Paris." 

"  Of  course  I  understand  that.  Remember  we 
are  to  start  in  four  weeks." 

"  But,  my  dear  boy,  I  have  to  have  something 
to  wear." 

"  Nonsense  !  We'll  buy  those  things  in  Paris. 
You  are  the  last  girl  to  make  a  man  wait  for 
wedding  finery.  I'll  tell  Van  Alstyne  unless  you 
promise  to  be  ready.  Won't  he  be  surprised 
when  we  walk  in  on  him  some  fine  morning  ? 
When  are  Miss  Henshawe  and  Bamford  to  be 
married?  " 

**  Not  till  some  time  in  the  winter.  He  has  a 
position  on  Long  Island,  so  Clara  won't  be  obliged 
to  live  in  Macedonia.  She  thinks  I  will  stop 
painting  after  I  am  married." 

'*  We'll  show  her  how  mistaken  she  is.  Two 
are  better  than  one,  even  in  a  studio,  and  if  the 
two  happen  to  be  one,  there  is  every  reason  why 


Atinice  Wynkoop,  Artist.  283 

art  should  flourish.  I  expect  to  see  your  pictures 
hung  on  the  hne  at  the  Salon,  my  dear.  Who 
knows  but  it  may  be  a  picture  of  Grandma  Wyn- 
koop  ?  By  the  way,  what  does  she  think  of  this 
affair  ?  " 

"  She  said  she  saw  it  coming  the  evening  when 
we  went  to  hear  Irving.  I  wish  I  had,"  said  Nan 
boldly.     "  Is  that  a  dreadful  thing  to  say  ?  " 

"Dreadful?  I  should  think  it  was.  I  don't  see 
how  you  could  help  knowing  the  state  of  my  feel- 
ings. I  wanted  to  take  the  train  for  Macedonia 
and  kill  Bamford.  Poor  man,  perhaps  it  would 
have  been  more  merciful  than  to  have  left  him  to 
Clara  Henshawe." 

"  Why,  Theodore  Frost,  what  an  unkind  thing 
to  say.  Clara  is  as  good  as  gold,  only  of  course, 
she  does  talk  a  great  deal." 

"  Exactly.  It  was  her  conversational  powers 
to  which  I  had  reference,  my  love.  However, 
Bamford  is  quiet  enough,  perhaps  he  likes  the 
opposite.  For  my  part,  I  don't  see  how  a  man 
can  change  his  mind  so  easily,  and  he  seems  to  be 
a  man  of  very  strong  will.  I  almost  wonder  he 
didn't  make  you  marry  him.  Jess  says  she  was 
afraid  he  would." 

"  I  was  almost  afraid  of  it  till  that  day  we  went 
sketching  along  the  Bronx.  I  realized  then  that 
I  was  little  Nan  Wynkoop  no  longer,  that  I  was 
very  much  grown  up  and  knew  my  own  mind." 

"Just  think  of  it,  Nan,  through  that  wretched 


284  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

Bamford  we  have  lost  a  whole  year  out  of  our 
lives.  If  he  hadn't  been  hanging  around  you, 
*  sighing  like  a  furnace,'  I  should  have  spoken  that 
day.  We'll  never  get  this  year  back,  not  if  we 
live  to  celebrate  our  diamond  wedding.  I'll  never 
forgive  the  teacher.  I  hope  Clara  will  talk  him 
to  death.     Hanging  is  too  good  for  him." 

"  Hush,  there  they  come.  I  hear  the  sound  of 
wheels." 

"  I  don't,  I  hear  the  sound  of  Clara's  voice.  Do 
you  suppose  she'll  stay  out  here?  If  she  does 
I'm  going  back  to  the  hotel." 

"  It  is  quite  time  you  went,  Teddy.  The  clock 
struck  ten  some  time  ago.  We  keep  early  hours 
here.  Probably  Charlotte  is  waiting  to  lock  up 
the  house,  but  she  can't  do  it  when  '  the  youngest ' 
has  a  beau  on  the  front  steps." 

"  I  suppose  I  must  go,  after  that  gentle  hint. 
You  haven't  promised  me  that  you'll  be  ready  for 
Paris  in  four  weeks." 

"  I  will  be  ready.  My  devotion  to  art  is  such 
that—" 

Mr.  Frost  prevented  Nan  from  finishing  the 
sentence.  "  It  is  quite  time  you  said  something 
about  your  devotion  to  me.  Do  you  want  me  to 
be  jealous  of  art  ?  Mercy,  here  come  Clara  and 
Bamford !  I'll  escape  this  way.  Good  night, 
sweetheart,  I'll  see  you  early  in  the  morning." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

When  Nan  and  her  husband  went  abroad  on 
what  he  called  "  the  long  trail,"  they  expected  to 
be  gone  a  year,  but  the  year  lengthened  into  five. 
Two  flying  trips  were  made  to  America,  but  they 
went  back  to  take  up  their  work  again. 

The  years  since  Nan's  marriage  had  been  very 
full  ones.  There  had  been  a  great  deal  of  hard 
work,  but  a  great  deal  of  fun  had  been  sandwiched 
in  between  the  work.  They  had  tired  of  hotel 
life  almost  as  soon  as  they  began  it,  and  then  had 
followed  a  haphazard  kind  of  housekeeping  which 
would  have  driven  some  men  to  the  verge  of 
distraction,  but  which  exactly  suited  Theodore 
Frost. 

Nan  and  he  painted  together,  and  went  on 
pleasure  trips  together  when  tired  of  work.  They 
were  the  best  of  friends,  despite  the  well-known 
saying  that  "  two  of  a  trade  never  agree."  Nan 
realized  that  she  did  better  work  because  of  this 
partnership  than  she  could  have  done  alone.  Van 
Alstyne's  prediction  was  fast  coming  true,  and  this 
clever  young  artist's  work  was  becoming  known 
on   both  sides  of  the  water.     So  much  for  the 

artist  I 

285    .  ..        .      ■ 


286  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

As  for  the  woman,  if  her  husband's  verdict 
could  be  accepted,  she  was  growing  more  charm- 
ing every  day.  A  perfectly  happy  woman  is  apt 
to  be  a  beautiful  one,  and  Nan's  content  wrote 
itself  upon  her  face. 

Into  this  ideal  life  had  come  a  new  joy — a  little 
daughter.  Nan,  who  always  saw  more  in  a  face 
than  anyone  else,  fancied  that  the  tiny  maiden 
resembled  Grandma  Wynkoop,  and  she  gave  the 
child  her  name, — Barbara. 

The  baby  was  reared  in  a  happy-go-lucky 
fashion,  and  according  to  the  predictions  of  many 
people,  she  should  have  died  in  early  infancy. 
But  instead  of  dying  she  thrived,  and  was  a  bundle 
of  good  nature.  Most  of  her  day  was  spent  in  the 
studio,  for  her  mother  could  not  be  content  if  she 
was  out  of  her  sight  for  an  hour  at  a  time.  As 
soon  as  she  could  creep  she  would  make  a  "  bee- 
line  "  for  a  palette,  if  left  within  her  reach,  and 
she  was  blissfully  happy  when  her  little  dress  was 
smeared  with  paint.  Nan  would  ring  for  Babette, 
and  tell  her  to  put  another  dress  on  the  child, 
then  she  would  go  on  with  her  painting. 

Of  course  Nan  found  the  baby  an  excellent 
model,  and  she  soon  announced  to  hfer  husband 
that  "her  line"  would  be  children's  portraits. 
She  painted  this  precious  child  of  hers  so  often 
that  Mr.  Frost  declared  that  he  would  not  have 
his  daughter's  good  nature  imposed  upon. 

They  might  have  gone  on  in  this  happy,  care- 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  287 

free  life  for  five  years  more,  had  not  Mr.  Frost's 
business  called  him  home.  Both  Nan  and  he 
realized  that  it  was  time  they  returned  to  America. 
Nan  longed  to  see  the  dear  ones  in  Macedonia 
and  show  them  her  little  Barbara. 

So  their  canvases  were  packed  and  good-byes 
said  to  the  artist  friends  who  had  come  to  seem 
so  near.  Once  resolved  to  go,  both  Nan  and  her 
husband  were  impatient  to  reach  home. 

"  I  feel  somewhat  as  Jessica  does  about  New 
York,"  Nan  said  to  Mr.  Frost  one  evening,  as  they 
paced  the  deck,  while  the  child  slept  below  in  the 
care  of  the  good  Babette.  "  I  long  to  see  the  dear 
old  city  again.  Ever  since  we  started  I  have 
thought  of  that  sail  up  the  bay.  Don't  you  re- 
member how  beautiful  it  is?  Even  the  bay  of 
Naples  can't  equal  it.  I  can't  understand  why  we 
didn't  come  before." 

"  You  may  as  well  restrain  your  impatience, 
unless  you  want  to  get  out  and  walk.  I  can  get 
along  very  well  without  seeing  New  York.  I  want 
to  see  Macedonia  more.  I  want  to  ride  be- 
hind old  Billy,  and  I  want  to  go  after  the  cows. 
I  want  to  sit  on  the  stile  at  the  foot  of  the  apple 
orchard  and  make  love  to  you." 

"  You  needn't  have  all  those  accessories,  Teddy. 
You  have  made  love  to  me  ever  since  that  day 
you  began  it  on  the  stile.  I'll  say  that  much  for 
you,  dear  ;  you  have  kept  up  the  love-making 
business  right  along." 


288  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

"  If  we  are  not  careful,  Mrs.  Frost,  we  shall  be- 
come sentimental.  What  do  you  suppose  your 
people  will  say  to  me  for  keeping  you  away  from 
them  so  long  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  shame.  I  should  have  gone  back  before. 
Happiness  has  made  me  selfish,  I  fear.  But  it 
will  be  different  now  ;  I  shall  go  home  often.  My 
people  will  want  to  see  the  baby  as  often  as  pos- 
sible. She  is  the  only  grandchild.  I  don't  know 
why  '  the  youngest  Wynkoop  girl '  has  so  much 
more  than  the  others,"  Nan  added,  half  sadly, 
"  They  all  deserve  more  than  I,  yet  I  have  you, 
and  baby,  and  my  art.  Yet,  after  all,  what  one 
hasn't  had  one  doesn't  miss." 

"  Don't  be  sad,  little  woman.  We  shall  be  in 
New  York  in  less  than  twenty-four  hours,  so  save 
your  strength  for  Clara  Bam  ford's  greeting.  No 
doubt  she  is  standing  on  the  wharf  already,  wait- 
ing for  your  ship  to  come  in.  For  my  part,  I  am 
anxious  to  see  Bamford  and  know  how  he  has 
borne  up  under  that  enthusiasm  for  five  years." 

"  Teddy,  you  are  uncharitable.  Clara  writes 
that  they  are  very  happy." 

"  They  may  be  happy,  but  I  know  he  is  tired." 

While  the  steamer  which  was  carrying  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Frost  was  nearing  New  York,  there  was  great 
commotion  in  Mrs.  Henshawe-Bamford's  small 
house  in  aLong  Island  town.  The  whole  house 
was  swept  and  garnished,  but  the  studio  received 
particular  attention.      Mrs.    Henshawe-Bamford 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  289 

was  not  so  devoted  to  her  studio  as  formerly,  for 
Mr.  Bamford  and  two  very  lively  boys  demanded 
much  of  her  time.  So  sometimes  art  languished 
for  weeks  together. 

But  now  the  studio  was  the  most  important 
room  in  the  house  All  the  old-time  treasures, 
which  the  Philistine  Mr.  Bamford  called  "  traps," 
were  put  in  their  old  places,  for  it  was  Clara's 
object  to  make  this  studio  look  exactly  like  the 
one  which  she  and  Nan  had  shared. 

"  If  she  doesn't  say  it  looks  natural  I'll  never 
forgive  her,"  said  Clara,  as  she  stepped  back  to 
get  the  best  effect.  *'  Yes,  it  is  exactly  like  our 
old  studio,  and  it  ought  to  remind  her  of  all  those 
good  old  times.  I  hope  she  won't  be  too  fine  and 
foreign  to  appreciate  what  1  have  been  doing." 

Nan  saw  the  studio  before  going  to  her  room. 
"  It  looks  like  old  times,"  she  cried,  dropping  down 
on  the  divan.  "  There  is  the  desk,  the  cabinet, 
the  easel  stands  in  the  same  place,  and  all  the 
'  properties  '  are  just  where  they  used  to  be.  Oh, 
Clara,  why  have  you  hung  up  those  dreadful  old 
studies  of  mine?  But  isn't  the  whole  thing  natu- 
ral ?  It  seems  as  if  Basil  Parrish  must  come  in 
and  walk  around  as  if  he  owned  the  whole  thing, 
and  say  disagreeable  things  about  our  last  work. 
We  saw  a  good  deal  of  Basil  in  Paris.  He  was  in 
the  studio  two  or  three  times  a  week.  He  really 
paints  very  well  now ;  even  Teddy  acknowledges 
that. 
»9 


290  Annice  Wynkoop,  Artist. 

Now  I  want  to  see  your  boys.  Is  it  really 
possible  that  you  and  I  are  so  matronly  and  dig- 
nified ?  " 

Clara's  baby  was  brought  in  and  duly  admired. 
Then  Nan  demanded  '  the  Boy,'  as  young  Alan 
Bamford  was  always  called.  He  had  been  dressed 
in  his  best,  and  admonished  to  stay  in  the  nursery 
and  amuse  himself  with  his  best  toys,  till  the 
guests  should  arrive.  But  there  had  been  a 
shower  that  morning,  and  a  beautiful  mud  puddle 
in  the  back  yard  was  too  much  for  him  to  resist. 
When  Clara  found  him  he  was  a  most  disreputa- 
ble looking  child.  She  felt  like  crying,  and  she 
told  her  husband  afterward  that  the  Frost  baby 
looked  like  an  angel  in  her  flaxen  curls  and  dainty 
dress,  while  the  Bamford  boy  was  as  black  as  the 
"  ace  of  spades." 

Nan  spent  a  few  days  with  Clara  and  found  her 
much  the  same.  The  old  enthusiasm  was  there, 
but  it  was  distributed  over  so  many  different 
objects, — her  husband,  her  children,  her  house, 
her  art,  and  a  half-dozen  clubs  and  societies  for 
improving  the  town,  that,  as  Mr.  Frost  said,  she 
couldn't  ride  any  particular  hobby  to  death.  She 
was  genuinely  proud  of  Nan,  and  she  told  her  so 
a  dozen  times  a  day. 

Mr.  Bamford  was  making  a  success  of  his  pro- 
fession, and  he  seemed  very  happy  in  his  home 
life.  He  still  retained  a  little  of  his  teachery 
manner,  though  he  was  greatly  improved. 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  29I 

Nan  was  anxious  to  get  to  Macedonia,  and  she 
tore  herself  away  from  Clara.  Old  Billy  was  dead, 
and  a  new  horse  took  them  from  the  station. 
Nan  could  not  see  that  her  father  had  aged  since 
she  last  saw  him.  Life  had  been  easier  of  late, 
and  as  the  burden  of  care  had  gradually  lifted,  he 
looked  and  seemed  more  like  his  old  self. 

There  had  been  no  changes  under  the  old  brown 
roof.  Emma  Anna  and  Charlotte  still  made 
dresses  and  taught  school,  and  Harriet  dispensed 
library  books  to  the  youth  of  the  neighboring 
town.  Mrs.  Wynkoop  "kept  a  girl"  to  do  the 
housework,  and  she  was  able  to  spend  more  time 
in  the  Boston  rocker.  Grandma  was  still  living, 
hale  and  hearty,  and  her  pride  in  her  favorite 
granddaughter  knew  no  bounds. 

As  for  the  great-grand  daughter,  she  insisted 
that  there  never  had  been  such  a  child  since  the 
world  began.  That  the  baby  was  named  for  her 
was  an  infinite  satisfaction,  and  she  insisted  that 
Wynkoop  be  added  for  a  "  middle  name."  The 
rights  of  the  baby's  admiring  grandparents  and 
aunts  were  completely  ignored  by  the  jealous 
great-grandmother.  If  she  wanted  Barbara  every 
one  else  must  stand  aside. 

"  Nan,"  she  said  one  day,  "  why  don't  you  go 
into  the  attic  and  paint?" 

"  Why,  grandma,  I  am  taking  a  vacation.  And 
who  should  I  paint?" 

"  Who,  indeed,  but  the  two  Barbaras  ?     I'd  like 


292  Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist. 

to  be  taken  with  the  baby.  I'll  wear  anything 
you  like,  and  I'll  sit  like  a  bump  on  a  log  for  any 
length  of  time,  if  you'll  only  paint  us.  I'll  wear 
my  own  hair,  too,  Nan." 

Nan  agreed,  and  the  attic  studio  was  made 
ready.  Grandma  was  ready  long  before  Nan  had 
found  her  materials.  The  old  lady  took  the  child 
in  her  arms  and  held  her  in  the  most  awkward 
fashion  possible.  The  baby,  who  no  doubt  in- 
herited an  artistic  instinct,  snuggled  herself  com- 
fortably against  grandma's  shoulder.  The  pose 
suited  Nan  almost  exactly,  and  she  began  to 
work. 

It  was  a  labor  of  love,  and  her  brush  flew. 
Grandma  was  very  good  and  patient  and  the  baby 
was  so  used  to  being  painted  that  she  did  not 
mind  in  the  least. 

Mr.  Frost  knew  nothing  of  the  portrait  till,  one 
morning,  missing  his  family,  he  climbed  to  the 
studio.  It  was  during  the  models'  rest,  and  he 
went  to  inspect  the  picture. 

"  Bravo,  Nan  !  "  was  his  exclamation.  "  This  is 
the  best  thing  we  have  ever  done,  and  we'll  ex- 
hibit it.  How  would  you  like  to  be  in  an  exhib- 
ition, grandma?  That  is  what  Nan  will  bring 
you  to." 

"  Grandma  was  my  first  patron,"  said  Nan, 
taking  a  tube  of  paint  from  the  baby's  hands.  "  I 
received  twenty-five  dollars  for  my  first  picture, 
and  that  is  more  than  every  artist  can  say." 


Annice   Wynkoop,  Artist.  293 

"  You  have  raised  your  price  somewhat  since 
then,"  grandma  chuckled.  "  Art  has  paid  you 
better  than  the  Pine  Ridge  school  would  have 
done.  And  you  have  done  well  by  your  folks, 
Annice." 

"  I  have  one  thing  against  you,  grandmother 
Wynkoop,"  said  Mr.  Frost.  "  You  wanted  Nan 
to  marry  the  teacher." 

"  That  was  before  I  saw  you,  Theodore." 

**  A  very  graceful  speech,  grandma.  I  should 
rise  and  bow  my  acknowledgments  if  I  could  get 
rid  of  this  youngster  of  mine." 

"Annice  has  done  well,  as  I  often  tell  the  re- 
lations and  the  neighbors.  She's  got  a  man  that 
worships  the  ground  she  walks  on,  and  she  can 
make  as  good  a  picture  as  the  next  one,  I  don't 
care  who  it  may  be." 

"  It  is  time  to  pose  again,  grandma." 

"  I  suppose  it  is.  Let  Theodore  stay  and  talk 
to  me  about  Paris.  I  admire  to  hear  him  de- 
scribe it.  I'd  like  to  go  some  time  if  I  wasn't  too 
old." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  w^ill  be  easier,  grandma. 
You  shall  come  to  us  in  New  York  every  winter 
and  stay  as  long  as  you  like.  We  are  going  to 
settle  in  New  York,  and  you  may  look  out  for 
some  great  picture  from  us." 

"Are  you  going  to  give  up  the  engineering 
business?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  am  going  to  give  up  the  engineering 


294  Annice   VVynkoop,  Artist. 

business.  I'm  a  painter  or  nothing,  now.  Just 
remember,  grandma,  that  you  are  booked  for  a 
long  stay  in  New  York  next  winter." 

"  I'll  be  sure  to  come.  Macedonia  is  pretty 
dull  in  winter." 

"  I'll  show  you  the  portrait  of  the  two  Bar- 
baras if  you  will  stay  for  the  spring  exhibition." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure,  Teddy,"  warned  Nan. 

But  it  turned  out  as  Mr.  Frost  had  said.  The 
picture  which  took  the  first  prize  the  next  spring 
was  a  portrait  of  an  old  lady  with  white  hair  hold- 
ing a  beautiful  child.  The  picture  was  signed 
"A.  W.  F.  " 

Visitors  sometimes  noticed  that  the  original  old 
lady  often  stood  before  the  picture.  She  was 
invariably  accompanied  by  a  tall  man,  who  seemed 
to  have  a  special  interest  in  the  portrait. 


THE  END 


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HoRATiA  EwiNG.     12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"There  Is  no  doubt  as  to  the  good  quality  and  attractiveness  of  'Six  to 
Sixteen.'  The  book  is  one  which  would  enrich  any  girl's  book  shelf."— 
St.  James'  Gazette. 

The  Palace  Beautiful:     A  Story  for  Girls.     By  L.  T. 

Meade.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"A  bright  and  interesting  story.  The  many  admirers  of  Mrs.  L.  T. 
Meade  in  this  country  will  be  delighted  with  the  'Palace  Beautiful'  for 
more  reasons  than  one.  It  Is  a  charming  book  for  girls." — New  York 
Recorder. 

A  World  of  Girls :     The  Story  of  a  School.     By  L.  T. 

Meade.    ISoio,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  gl.OO. 

"One  of  those  wholesome  stones  which  it  does  one  good  to  read.  It 
will  afford  pure  delight  to  numerous  readers.  This  book  should  be  on 
every  girl's  book  shelf." — Boston 'Home  Journal. 

The  Lady  of  the  Forest :     A  Story  for  Girls.     By  L.  T. 

Meade.    18mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"This  story  Is  written  in  the  author's  well-irnown,  fresh  and  easy  style. 
All  girls  fond  of  reading  will  he  charmed  by  this  well-written  story.  •  It 
is  told  with  the  author's  customary  grace  and  spirit." — Boston  Times. 

At  the  Back  of  the  North  Wind.     By  George  Mac- 

DONALD.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  81.00. 

"A  very  pretty  story,  with  much  of  the  freshness  and  vigor  of  Mr.  Mac- 
donald's  earlier  work.  .  .  .  It  is  a  sweet,  earnest,  and  wholesome  fairy 
story,  and  the  quaint  native  humor  is  delightfu-.  A  most  delightful  vol- 
ume for  young  readers." — Philadelphia  Times. 

The  Water  Babies:     A  Fairy  Tale  for   a   Land  Baby. 

By  Charles  Kingsley.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"The  strength  of  his  work,  as  well  as  its  peculiar  charms,  consist  In 
his  description  of  the  experiences  of  a  youth  with  life  under  water  in  the 
luxuriant  wealth  of  which  he  revels  with  all  the  ardor  of  a  poetical  na- 
ture."— New   York   Tribune. 

Our  Bessie.     By  Eos  a  JST.  Carey.     12mo,  cloth,  illus- 

strated,  price  $1.00. 

"One  of  the  most  entertaining  stories  of  the  season,  full  of  vigorous 
action,  and  strong  in  character-painting.  Elder  girls  will  be  charmed  with 
it,  and  adulcs  may  redd  its  pages  with  profit." — The  Teachers'  Aid. 

Wild  Kitty.     A  Story  of  Middleton  School.     By  L.  T. 

Meade.    ISmo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"Kitty  is  a  true  heroine — warm-hearted,  self-sacrificing,  and,  as  all 
good  women  nowada.vs  are,  largely  touched  with  the  enthusiasm  of  human- 
ity.    One  of  the  most  attractive  gift  books  of  the  season." — The  Academy, 

A    Young   Mutineer.     A    Story  for  Girls.     By   L.    T. 

Meade.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"One  of  Mrs.  Meade's  charming  books  for  girls,  narrated  in  that  simple 
and  picturesque  style  which  murks  t^e  authoress  as  one  of  the  first  among 
writers  for  yoiuig   )>eople." — The  Speotator. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,   A,   L.   BURT,   52-58  Suane  Street,   New  York. 


A.  K  BURT^S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  3 

BOOKS  FOR  GIRLS. 

Sue  and  I.     By  Mrs.  O'Keilly.     13mo,  cloth,  illus- 
trated, price  75  cents. 
■■A  thoroughly  delightful  book,  full  of  sound  wisdom  as  weU  as  fun." — 

Athenseum. 

The  Princess   and   the   Goblin.     A   Fairy   Story.    By 

George  Macdonald.     12iiio,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"11'  !i  chllfl  once  begins  this  book,  it  will  get  so  deeply  interested  In 
it  that  when  bedtime  comes  it  will  altogether  forget  the  moral,  and  will 
weary  its  parents  with  importunities  for  just  a  few  minutes  more  to  see 
bow  everything  ends." — baturaay  Ueview, 

Pythia's    Pupils:     A    Story    of    a    School.    By  Eva 

Haktner.     121110,  clDtli.  ilhistratf'd.  price  $1.00. 

"This  story  of  the  doings  of  several  bright  school  girls  Is  sure  to  Interest 
girl  readers.  Among  many  good  stories  lor  girls  this  is  undoubtedly  one 
of    the    very    best." — leaohers'    Aid 

A  Story  of  a  Short  Life.    By  Juliana  Hoeatia  Ewing. 

ISino,  cloth,  illustrated,  juice  81  00. 

"The  book  is  one  we  can  heartily  recommend,  for  It  is  not  only  bright 
and  interesting,  but  also  pure  and  healthy  in  tone  and  teaching." — 
Ccuiier. 

The  Sleepy  King.    A  Fairy  Tale.    By  Aubrey  Hop- 
wood  AND  Seymuur  liicKS.    13II10,  clolh,  illustrated,  price  7.j  i  ents. 
"Wonderful  as  the  adventures  of  Bluebelf  are,  it  must  be  admitted  that 

they     are     very     naturally     worked     out     and     very     plausiblv-     presented. 

Altogether  this  is  an  excellent  story  for  girls." — Saturday  Eeview. 

Two    Little    Waifs.     By    Mrs.  Moleswokth.     12mo, 

cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"Mrs.  Molesworth's  delightful  story  of  'Two  Little  Waifs'  will  charm 
all  the  small  people  who  liiid  it  in  their  stockings.  It  relates  the  ad- 
ventures of  two  lovable  Knglish  children  lost  in  I'aris,  and  is  just  wonder- 
ful enough  to  pleasantly  wring  the  youthful  heart." — New  York  Tribune. 

Adventures  in  Toyland.    By  Edith  King  Hall.    12mo, 

cloth,  illustrateil,  price  i5  cents. 

"The  author  is  such  a  bright,  cheery  writer,  that  her  stories  are 
always  acceptable  to  all  who  are  not  conUrmed  cynics,  and  her  record  of 
th'^  adventuies  is  as  entertaining  and  enjoyable  as  we  might  expect.  — 
Boston  Courier. 

Adventures  in  Wallypug  Land.    By  G.   E.  Farrow. 

laino,  clotli,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"These  adventures  are  simply  inimitable,  and  wiU  delight  boys  and  glrU 
of  mature  age.  as  well  as  their  juniors.  No  happier  combination  of 
author  and  artist  than  this  volume  presents  could  be  found  to  farnlsh 
lualthy  amnseni.nt  to  the  young  folks.  The  book  is  an  artistic  one  In 
every  sense." — Toronto  Mail. 

Fussbudget's   Folks.     A   Story   for  Young  Girls.    By 

Anna  F.  Burnham.    12nio,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  81-00. 

"Mrs.  Burnham  has  a  rare  gift  for  composing  stories  for  cl>lWren.  With 
a  light,  yet  forcible  touch,  she  paints  sweet  and  artless,  yet  nattjral  and 
wliong.    characters. ' '— Consregationalist. ^ 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  tb* 
pubUaher,  A.  L.  BUBX,  §8-68  Dtuuw  Street,  New  York. 


i  A.  L.  BURT^S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 

BOOKS  FOR  GIRLS. 

Mixed  Pickles.     A  Story  for  Girls.     By  Mes.  E.  M. 

Field.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  T3  cents. 

"It  is,  in  Its  way,  a  little  classic,  of  which  the  real  beauty  and  pathos 
can  hardly  be  appreciated  by  yoiin?  people.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say 
of  the  story  that  It  is  perfect  of  its  kind." — Good  Literature. 

Miss  Mouse   and    Her   Boys.     A  Story  for  Girls.    By 

Mrs.  Molesworth.    i^mo.  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 
"Mrs.   Molesworth 's  books  are  cheery,   wholesome,   and  particularly  well 
adapted  to  refined  life.     It  is  safe  to  add  that  she  is  the  best  English  prose 
writer  for  children.     A  new    volun-e   from   Mrs.    Molesworth   Is  ajways  a 
treat." — The  Beacon. 

Gilly  Flower.     A  Story   for    Girls.     By  the  author  of 

"Miss  Toosey's  Mission."        12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"Jill  is  a  little  guardian  angel  to  three  lively  brothers  who  tease  and 
play  with  her.  .  .  .  Her  unconscious  goodness  brings  right  thoughts 
and  resolves  to  several  persons  who  come  into  contact  with  her.  There  is 
no  goodiness  in  this  tale,  but  Its  influence  is  of  the  best  kind." — Literary 
World. 

The  Chaplet  of  Pearls ;  or,  The  White  and  Black  Eibau- 

mont.    By  Charlotte  M.  Yonge.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"Full  of  spirit  and  life,  so  well  sustained  throughout  that  grown-up 
readers  may  enjoy  it  as  much  as  children.  It  is  one  of  the  best  books  of 
the  season." — Guardian. 

Naughty  Miss  Bunny :     Her  Tricks  and  Troubles.     By 

Clara  Mclholijind.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 
"The  naughty  child  is  positively  delightful.     Papas  should  not  omit  the 
book  from  their  list  of  juvenile  presents." — Land  and  Water. 

Meg's    Friend.      By    Alice    Coekran.     12mo,    cloth, 

illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"One  of  Miss  Corkran's  charming  books  for  girls,  narrated  in  that  simple 
and  picturesque  style  which  marks  the  authoress  as  one  of  the  first  among 
writers  for  young  people." — The  Speoiator. 

Averil.     By  Eosa  N".  Carey.     12mo,  cloth,  illustrated, 

price  Jl.OO. 

"A  charming  story  for  young  folks.  Averil  Is  a  delightful  creature — 
piquant,  tender,  and  true — and  her  varying  fortunes  are  perfectly  real- 
istic. "—World. 

A.unt  Diana.    By  Rosa  N.  Caeey.     12mo,  cloth,  illus- 
trated, price  $1.00. 
"An    excellent    story,    the   interest   being   sustained    from   first   to   last. 

This  is,   both   in   its  intention  and  the  way   the  story  is  told,   one  of  the 

best  books  of  its   kind    ivhich   has  come  before  us  this  year." — Saturday 

Review. 

Little  Sunshine's  Holiday:     A  Picture  from  Life.     By 

Miss  Mi'Lock.    12mo.  cloth,  illustrnted.  price  75  cents. 
"This  is  a  pretty  narrative  of  child  life,   describing  the  simple  doingr 
and   Sflyfns-s  r-t   n    verv   nhnrmlng   and    riitber   precocious   child.     This   Is   a 
delightful   book   for  young  people." — Gazette. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  tli» 
oabUsher.  A.  L.  BUST.  62^  Duana  Street,  tfew  York. 


A.  L.  BURT^S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


BOOKS  FOR  GIRLS. 

Esther's  Charge.  A  Story  for  Girls.  By  Ellen  Everett 

Green.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  prici'  §1.00. 

"  .  •  •  This  is  a  story  showing  in  a  charming  way  how  one  little 
girl's  jealousy  and  bad  temper  were  conquered;  one  of  the  best,  most 
suggestive  and  improving  of  the  Christmas  Juveniles." — New  York  Trib- 
une. 

Fairy  land   of   Science.     By  Arabella  B.  Buckley, 

12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  gl.OO. 

"We  can  highly  recommend  it;  not  only  for  the  valuable  Information 
It  gives  on  the  special  subjects  to  which  it  is  dedicated,  but  also  as  a 
book  teaching  natural  soiouces  in  an  interesting  way.  A  fascinating 
little  volume,  which  will  make  friends  In  every  household  in  which  there 
are  children." — Daily  News. 

Merle's  Crusade.     By   Rosa  N.  Carey.     12mo,  cloth, 

illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"Among  the  books  for  young  people  we  have  seen  nothing  more  aniqne 
than  this  book.  Like  all  of  this  author's  stories  it  will  please  young  read- 
ers by  the  very  attractive  and  charming  style  in  which  it  Is  written." — 
Journal. 

Birdie:     A   Tale   of   Child   Life.     By  H.  L.  Ciiilde- 

Pemberton.    ]2nio,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"The  story  Is  quaint  and  simple,  but  there  is  a  freshness  al>out  It 
that  makes  one  hear  again  the  ringing  laugh  and  the  cheery  shout  of  chil- 
dren at  play  which  charmed  his  earlier  years." — New  York  Express. 

The  Days  of  Bruce:     A  Story  from  Scottish  History. 

By  Grace  Aguii.ar.     12ino,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"There  is  a  delightful  freshness,  sincerity  and  vivacity  alKiut  all  of  Grace 
Aguilar's  stories  which  cannot  fail  to  win  the  Interest  and  admiration  of 
every  lover  of  good  reading." — Boston  Beacon, 

Three  Bright  Girls :     A  Story  of  Chance  and  Mischance. 

By  Annie  E.  Armstrong.  12mo.  cloth,  illustrated,  price  §1.00. 
"The  charm  of  the  story  lies  in  the  cheery  helpfulness  of  spirit  devel- 
oped in  the  girls  bv  tht'ir  changed  circumstances;  while  the  author  finds 
a  pleasant  ending  to  all  their  happy  makeshifts.  The  story  is  charmingly 
told,  and  the  book  can  be  warmly  recommended  as  a  present  for  girls.  — 
Standard. 

Giannetta:     A  Girl's  Story  of  Herself.     By  Rosa  Mul- 

Hou^ND.    12mo,  cloth,  ilhntrated,  price  $1.00. 

"Extremely  wcH  told  and  full  of  Interest.  Giannetta  Is  a  true  heroine- 
warm-hearted,  self-sacrilicing,  and,  as  all  good  women  nowadays  are, 
largely  t<.uched  with  enthusiasm  of  humanity.  The  Illustrations  are  un- 
usually good.  One  of  the  most  attractive  gift  books  of  the  season.  — TM 
Acadeky. 

Margery    Merton's    Girlhood.     By    Alice    Corkran. 

12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  Jl.OO. 

"The  experiences  of  an  orphan  girl  who  In  Infancy  »8  ^If'*  }'/„„ ^J 
father  to  the  care  of  an  elderly  aunt  residing  near  Paris.  The  aceouita 
of  the  various  persons  who  have  an  after  i>'flueuce  J'"  t''^.  8'"'"y  "JP  »'"■ 
eularlv  vivid  There  is  a  subtle  attraction  about  the  lK)ok  which  will  mane 
it   a    gieut    favorite    with    thoughtful   girls. "-Saturday   Review. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
pubMoher,  A.  L.  BITBT,  M-*8  Duane  Street,  New  York. 


6  A.  L.  BURT^S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 

BOOKS  FOR  GIRLSl  ~~" 

Tinder  False  Colors:     A  Story  from  Two  Girls'  Lives. 

By  Sarah  Doudney.    12ino,  cloth,  illustriited,  price  Sl-00. 

"Sarah  Doudnej-  has  no  superior  as  a  writor  of  high-toned  stories — pure 
in  style,  original  in  conception,  and  with  skillfully  wrought  out  plots;  but 
we  have  seen  nothing  etjual  in  dramatic  energy  lo  this  booli." — Christian 
Leader. 

Down  the  Snow  Stairs;  or,  From  Good-night  to  Good- 
morning.  By  Alice  Corkrax.  12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  7!')  cents 
"Among  all  the  Christmas  volumes  which  the  year  has  brought  to  our 
taltle  this  one  stands  out  facile  prinoeps — a  gem  of  the  first  water,  bearing 
upon  every  one  of  its  pages  the  signet  mark  of  genius.  .  .  .  All  is  told 
with  such  simplicity  and  perfect  naturalness  that  the  dream  appears  to  be 
a  solid  reality.  It  is  indeed  a  Liittle  Pilgrim's  Progress." — Christian 
Leader. 

The  Tapestry  Room:     A  Child's  Eomance.     By  Mrs. 

MoLESWORTH.     12mo.  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"Mrs.  Molcsworth  is  a  charming  painter  of  the  nature  and  ways  of 
chlldren;«  and  slie  has  done  good  service  in  giving  us  this  charming 
juv  nile  which  will  delight  the  young  people." — Athenseum,  London. 

Little  Miss  Peggy:     Only  a  Nursery  Story.     By  Mrs. 

MoLESWORTH.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  7.5  cents. 

Mrs.  Molesworth's  children  are  finished  studies.  A  Joyous  earnest  spirit 
pervades  her  work,  and  her  sympathy  is  unbounded.  She  loves  them 
with  her  whole  heart,  while  she  lays  bare  their  little  minds,  and  expresses 
their  foibles,  their  faults,  their  -virtues,  their  inward  struggles,  their 
conception  of  duty,  and  their  instinctive  knowledge  of  the  right  and  wrong 
of  things.  She  knows  their  characters,  she  understands  their  wants, 
and   she  desires  to  help  them. 

Polly:     A    New    Fashioned    Girl.     By    L.  T.  Meade. 

ISmo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1 .00. 

Few  authors  have  achieved  a  popularity  equal  to  Mrs.  Meade  as  a 
writer  of  stories  for  young  girls.  Her  characters  are  living  beings  of 
flesh  and  blood,  not  lay  figures  of  conv(>ntional  t.vpe.  Into  the  trials 
and  crosses,  and  everyday  experiences,  the  reader  enters  at  once  with  zest 
and  heart.v  sympathy.  While  Mrs.  Meade  always  writes  with  a  high 
moral  purpose,  her  lessons  of  life,  purity  and  nobility  of  character  are 
rather  inculcated  by  example  than  Intruded  as  sermons. 

On€  of  a  Covey.     By  the    author  of  "Miss    Toosey's 

Mission."    ]2mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"Full  of  spirit  and  life,  so  well  sustained  throughout  that  grown-up 
readers  ma.v  enjoy  it  as  much  as  children.  This  'Covey'  consists  of  the 
twelve  children  of  a  hard-pressed  Dr.  Partridge  out  of  which  is  chosen  a 
little  girl  to  be  adopted  by  a  spoiled,  fine  lady.  We  have  ran-ly  read 
«  story  for  boys  and  girls  with  greater  pleasure.  One  of  the  chief  char- 
acters v.ould  not  have  disgraced  Dickens'  pen." — Literary  World. 

The  Little  Princess  of  Tower  Hill.     By  L.  T.  Meade. 

12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  7.5  cents. 

"This  is  one  of  the  prettiest  books  for  children  published,  as  pretty 
as  a  pond-lily,  and  quite  as  fragrant.  Nothing  could  be  imagined  more 
flttrnotive  to  young  poonle  than  such  a  combination  of  frpsh  pages  and 
fair  iifctnres:  and  while  children  will  rojoioe  over  it — which  Is  mnch 
better  than  crying  for  it — it  is  a  book  thrt  run  be  read  with  pleasure 
even  by  older  hoys  and  girls." — Boston  Advertiser. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  reeoint  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A.  L.  BTJKT,  58-58  Duane  Street,  New  York. 


A.  L.  Bum's  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  7 

BOOKS  FOR  GIRLS. 

Rosy.     By  Mrs.  Molesworth.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated, 

price  75  cents. 

Mrs.  Molesworth,  considering  the  quality  and  quantity  of  her  labors, 
is  the  best  story-teller  for  children   England  has  yet  known. 

"This  is  a  very  pretty  story.  The  writer  knows  children,  and  their 
ways  well.     The  illustrations  are  exceedingly  well  drawn." — Spectator. 

Esther :     A  Book  for  Girls.    By  Rosa  N.  Carey.    12mo, 

cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"She  inspires  her  readers  simply  by  bringing  them  in  contact  with  the 
characters,  who  arc  in  themselves  inspiring.  Her  simple  stories  are  woven 
in  order  to  give  her  an  opportunity  to  describe  her  characters  by  their  own 
conduct  in  seasons  of  trial." — Chicago  Times. 

Sweet  Content.     By  Mrs.  Molesworth.     12mo,  cloth, 

illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"It  seems  to  me  not  at  all  easier  to  draw  a  lifelike  child  than  to  draw 
a  lifelike  man  or  woman:  Shake8i)eare  and  Webster  were  the  only  two 
men  of  their  age  who  could  do  it  with  perfect  delicacy  and  success. 
Our  own  age  is  more  fortunate,  on  this  single  score  at  least,  having  a 
larger  and  far  nobler  proportion  of  female  writers;  among  whom,  since 
the  death  of  George  Eliot,  there  is  none  left  whose  touch  is  so  exquisite 
and  masterly,  whose  love  is  so  thoroughly  according  to  knowledge,  whose 
bright  and  sweet  Invention  is  .so  fruitful,  so  truthful,  or  so  delightful  aa 
Mrs.    Molesworth's." — A.    C.    Swinbourne. 

Honor  Bright ;  or,  The  Four-Leaved  Shamrock.     By  the 

author  of  "  Miss  Toosej's  Mission."    12mo.  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1  00. 
"It    requires    a    special    talent    to   describe    the    sayings    and    doings   of 
children,  and  the  author  of  'Honor  Bright,'  'One  of  a  Covey,"  possesses  ttat 
talent   in   no  small   degree.     A   cheery,    sensible,   and   healthy    tale." — The 
Times. 

The  Cuckoo  Clock.     By  Mrs.   Molesworth.     12mo, 

cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"A  beautiful  little  story.  It  will  be  read  with  delight  by  every  child 
Into  whose  hands  it  is  placed.  .  .  .  The  author  deserves  all  the  praise 
that  has  been,  is,  and  will  be  bestowed  on  "The  Cuckoo  Clock.  Children  ■ 
stories  are  plentiful,  but  one  like  this  Is  not  to  be  mot  with  every  day.  — 
Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

The  Adventures  of  a  Brownie.     As  Told  to  my  Child. 

By  Miss  Mulock.     ISina,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"The  author  of  this  delightful  little  book  leaves  It  In  donbt  all  tbrongb 
whether  there  actually  is  mch  a  creature  in  existence  as  a  Brownie,  but 
she  makes  us  hope  that  there  might  be."— Chioagro  Standard. 

Only  a  Girl:     A  Tale  of  Brittany.     From  the  French 

by  C.  A.  Jo.NES.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  Jl.OO. 

"We  can  thoroughly  recommend  this  brightly  written  and  homely  nar- 
rative."—Saturday  Review. 

Little    Rosebud;  or,  Things  Will    Take    a   Turn.     By 

Beatrice  Harraden.    1211^..  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"A  most  delightful  little  book.  .  .  .  Miss  Harraden  Is  so  bright,  so 
healtliv  and  sn  natural  withiil  that  the  book  ought,  as  a  matter  of  duty, 
to   be   added   to  every  girls   library   lu   the   land."— Boston   Tranacr.pt. 

For^ale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A.  L.  BUET,  68-68  Duaao  Street.  New  York. 


8  A.  L.  BURT^S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 

BOOKS  FOR  GIRLS. 

Girl  Neighbors ;  or,  The  Old  Fashion  and  the  New.     By 

Sarah  Tytler.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  §1.00. 

"Onp  of  the  most  eEfoctlve  and  quietly  hnmoroiis  of  Miss  Tytler's  stories. 
'Girl  Neighbors'  is  a  pleasant  comedy,  not  so  much  of  errors  as  of  preju- 
dices Rot  rid  of,  very  healthy,  very  agreeable,  and  very  well  written." — 
Spectator. 

The  Little  Lame  Prince  and  His  Traveling  Cloak.     By 

Miss  Mulock.     12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  7.5  cents. 
"No   sweeter — thwt   is   the   proper    word — Christmas   story    for   the   little 
follcs  could  easily   be  found,    and   it   is  as  delightful   for  older   readers  as 
well.     There  is  a  moral  t'<  it  which  the  reader  can  find  out  for  himself,   if 
he  chooses  to  think." — Cleveland  Herald. 

Little  Miss  Joy.     By  Emma  Marshall.     12mo,  cloth, 

illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"A  very  pleasant  and  instructive  story,  told  by  a  very  charming  writer 
in  such  an  attractive  way  as  to  win  favor  among  its  young  readers.  The 
Illustrations  add  to  the  beauty  of  the  book." — XJtioa  Herald. 

The  House  that  Grew.    A  Girl's  Story.    By  Mrs.  ISIoles- 

WORTH.    ]8mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"This  is  a  very  pretty  story  of  English  life.  Mrs.  Molesworth  is  one 
of  the  most  popular  and  charming  of  English  story -writers  for  children. 
Her  child  characters  are  trne  to  life,  always  nntural  and  attractive, 
and  her  stories  are  wholesome  and  interesting." — Indianapolis  Journal. 

The   House   of   Surprises.     By   L.    T.  Meade.     12mo, 

cloth,  illustmted,  price  75  cents. 

"A  charming  tale  of  charming  children,  who  are  naughty  enough  to  be 
Interesting,  and  natural  enough  to  be  lovable;  and  very  prettily  their  story 
Is  told.  The  quaintest  vet  most  natural  stories  of  child  life.  Simply 
delightful."— Vanity  Fair. 

The  Jolly  Ten:  and  their  Year  of  Stories.     By  Agnes 

Carr  Sage.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

The  story  of  a  band  of  cousins  who  were  accustomed  to  meet  at  the 
"Pinery,"  with  "Aunt  Roxy."  At  her  fireside  they  play  merry  games, 
have  suppers  llavored  with  innocent  fun,  and  listen  to  stories — each  with 
Its  lesson  calculated  to  make  the  ten  not  less  jolly,  but  quickly  re- 
sponsive to  the  calls  of  duty  and  to  the  needs  of  others. 

,  Little  Miss  Dorothy.     The  Wonderful  Adventures  of 

Two  Little  People.    By  Martha  James.    ISmo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75c. 

"This  is  a  charming  little  juvenile  story   from   the  pen  of  Mrs.   James, 

detailing    the    various   adventures   of    a    couple    of   young    children.     Their 

many    adventures    are    told    in    n    clinrmiiig    manner,    and    the    book    will 

please  young  girls  and  boys." — Montreal  Star. 

Pen's   Venture.      A    Story    for    Girls.     By    Elvirton 

WRinHT.    ISmo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

Something  Pen  saw  in  the  condition  of  the  cash  girls  in  a  certain  store 
gave  her  a  thought;  the  thought  became  a  plan:  the  plan  became  a  ven- 
ture— Pen's  venture.     It  is  amusing,  touching,  and  instructive  to  read  about 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,   A.   L.   BUST,   62-58  Duane  Street,   New  York. 


A.  L.  Burt's  books  foe  Young  people. 


FAIRY  BOOKS. 

The  Blue  Fairy  Book.     Edited  by  Andrew  Lang.    Pro- 
fusely illustrated,  12iuo,  cloth,  price  $1.00. 
"The   tales   are   simply   delightful.     No   amount   of   dpscrlptlon   can   do 

them  justice      The  only  way  is  to  read  the  book  through  from  corer  to 

cover." — Book  Review, 

The   Green  Fairy  Book.    Edited  by  Andrew  Lang. 

Profusely  illustrated,  12nio,  cloth,  price  $1.00. 

"The  most  dellphtfnl  book  of  fairy  tales,  taking  form  and  content*  to- 
gether, ever  presented  to  children." — E.   8.   HartUnd,  in  Folk-Lore, 

The   Yellow  Fairy   Book.     Edited  by  Andrew  Lang. 

Profusely  illustrated,  12mo,  cloth,  price  $1.0a 

"As  a  collection  of  fairy  tales  to  delight  children  of  all  ages.  It  ranka 
second  to  none." — Daily  Graphic. 

The  Red  Fairy  Book.     Edited  by  Andrew  Lang.     Pro- 
fusely illustrated,  12mo,  cloth,  price  SI.iO. 
"A   gift-hook   that   will  charm   any   child,   and  all  older  folk,   who  hare 

been  fortunate  enough  to  retain  their  taste  for  the  old  nursery  atoriea." — • 

Literary  World. 

Celtic  Fairy  Tales.     Edited  by  Joseph  Jacobs.     12mo, 

cloth,  illustrated,  price  Sl.OO. 

"A  stock  of  delightful  little  narratives  gathered  chiefly  from  the  Celtle- 
speaking  peasants  of  Ireland.  A  perfectly  lovely  book.  And  oh!  the 
wonderful  pictiucs  Inside.  Get  this  book  if  you  can;  it  Is  capital,  all 
through." — Pall  Mall  Budget. 

English  Fairy  Tales.     Edited  by  Joseph  Jacobs.  12mo, 

cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"The  tales  are  simply  delightful.  No  amount  of  description  can  dtt 
them  justice.  The  only  way  is  to  read  the  book  through  from  cover  to 
cover.  The  book  is  intended  to  correspond  to  'Grimm's  Fairy  Tales,' 
and  It  must  be  allowed  that  Its  pages  fairly  rival  In  Interest  those  of 
that  well-known  repository  of  folk-lore." — Morning  Herald. 

Indian  Fairy  Tales.     Edited  by  Joseph  Jacobs.     12mo, 

cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1-00. 

"Mr.  Jacobs  brings  home  to  as  In  a  clear  and  Intelligible  manne'  the 
enormous  influence  which  'Indian  Fairy  Tales'  have  had  upon  European 
literature  of  the  kind.  The  present  combination  will  be  welcomed  not 
alone  by  the  little  ones  for  whom  it  is  specially  combined,  but  also  bj 
children  of  larger  growth  and  added  years." — Daily  Telegraph. 

Household   Fairy   Tales.     By  the  Brothers   Grimm. 

12mo,  cloth,  illustrate  1,  price  $1.00. 

"As  a  collection  of  fairy  tales  to  dellpht  children  of  all  ages  thla 
■work   ranks  second  to  none." — Daily  Oraph.o. 

Fairy  Tales  and  Stories.     By  Hans  Christian  Ander- 
sen.   12mo,  cloth,  illustrnted  price  $1.00. 
"If  r  wore  flsVed  to  select  a  child's  library  I  fcoonld  name  these  thre« 

votnraes,    'English,'    'Celtic.'    and    'TiKlinn   Fairy  Tales,'   with   Grimm  and 

Hans  Andersen's  Fairy  Tales." — Independent. 

For  sale  by  all  book-sellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  rpcelpt  of  price  by  tb* 
publisher,  A.  L.  BUKT,  62-58  Buasa  Street,  Naw  York. 


10        A.  L.  BURT^S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 

FAIRY  BOOKS. 

Popular  Fairy  Tales,     By  the  Brothers  Grimm.    ISmo, 

cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"From  first  to  last,  almost  without  exception,  these  stories  are  delight- 
ful. ' ' — Athenaeum. 

Icelandic  Fairy  Tales.     By  A.  W.  Hall.     ISmo,  cloth, 

illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"The  most  delightful  book  of  fairy  tales,  taking  form  and  contents  to- 
gether, ever  presented  to  children.  The  whole  collection  Is  dramatic  and 
humorous.  A  more  desirable  child's  book  has  not  been  seen  for  many  a 
day." — Daily  News. 

Fairy  Tales  From  the  Far  North.     (Norwegian.)     By 

p.  C.  AsBJORNSEN.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  81.00. 
"If  we  were  asked  what  present  would  make  a  child  happiest  at  Christ- 
mastide  we  think  we  could  with  a   clear  conscience  point  to  Mr.   Jacobs' 
book.     It  is  a  daiuty  and  an  interesting  volume." — Notes  and  ftuer.es, 

Cossack   Fairy    Tales.     By  R.    ISTisbet    Bain.     12ino, 

cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"A  really  valuable  and  curious  selection  which  will  be  welcomed  by 
readers  of  all  ages.  .  .  .  The  Illustrations  by  Mr.  Batten  are  often 
clever  and  irresistibly  humorous.  A  delight  alike  to  the  young  people 
and  their  elders." — Globe. 

The  Golden  Fairy  Book.    By  Various  Authors.    12mo, 

cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"The  most  delightful  book  of  Its  kind  that  has  come  in  our  way  for 
many  a  day.  It  Is  brimful  of  pretty  stories.  Retold  in  a  truly  deightful 
manner. "  — Graphic. 

The  Silver  Fairy  Book.     By  Various  Authors.     12mo, 

cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"The  book  is  intended  to  correspond  to  'Grimm's  Fairy  Tales,'  and  It 
must  be  allowed  that  its  pages  fairly  rival  in  Interest  those  of  the  well- 
known  repository  of  folk-lore.  It  is  a  most  delightful  volume  of  fairy 
tales." — Courier. 

The  Brownies,  and  Other  Stories.    By  Juliana  Horatia 

EwiNG.    I2ino,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"Like  all  the  books  she  has  written  this  one  is  very  charming,  and 
Is  worth  more  in  the  hitnds  of  a  child  than  a  score  of  other  stories  of  a 
more    sensational    character." — Christian    at    Work. 

The  Hunting  of  the  Snark.     An  Agony  in  Eight  Fits. 

By  Lewis  Carroll,  author  of  "Alice  in  Wonderland."    12mo,  cloth,  illus 

trated,  price  75  cents. 

"This  glorious  piece  of  nonsense.  .  .  .  Everybody  ought  to  read  It 
— nearly  everybody  will — and  all  who  deserve  the  treat  will  scream  with 
laughter. " — Graphic. 

Lob   Lie-By-the-fire,   and   Other   Tales.     By   Juliana 

Horatio  Ewing.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"Mrs.  Ewing  has  written  as  good  a  story  as  her  'Brownies,'  and  that 
is  saying  a  great  deal.  Tob  Lie-bv-the-fire'  has  humor  and  pathos,  and 
teaches  what  is  right  without  making  children  think  they  are  reading  a 
sermon." — Saturday   Review. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A.   L,   BURT,   62-58  Duane  Street,   New  York. 


A.  L.  BURT^S  BOOItS  E'OR  YOUNG  PEOPLE.        11 

BOOKS  FOR  BO  VS. 

By  Right  of  Conquest;  or,    With    Cortez  in    Mexico. 

By   8.    A.    Henty,    With   illustrations  by  W.  S.  Stacky.    12ino,  cloth 

olivine  edges,  price  Si. 50. 

"The  conquest  of  Mexico  by  a  small  band  of  resolute  men  under  the 
magniflcent  leadership  of  Cortez  Is  always  rightfully  ranked  among  the 
most  romantic  and  daring  exploits  In  history.  "By  Right  of  Conquest' 
Is  the  nearest  approach  to  a  perfectly  successful  historical  tale  that 
Mr.    Henty    has    yet    published." — -Academy. 

For   Name   and   Fame;    or,   Through  Afghan   Passes. 

By  G.  A    Henty,    With  illustrations  by  Gordon  Browne.    12mo,  cloth 

olivine  edges,  price  $1 .00. 

"Not  only  a  rousing  story,  replete  with  all  the  varied  forms  of  excite- 
ment of  a  campaign,  but,  what  is  still  more  useful,  an  account  of  a 
territory  and  its  iiihal>itants  which  must  for  a  long  time  possess  a  supreme 
Interest  for  Englishmen,  as  being  the  key  to  our  Indian  Empire." — 
Glasgow  Herald. 

The  Bravest  of  the  Brave;  or.  With  Peterborough  in 

Spain.    By  Gl.  A.   Henty.    With  illustrations   by  H.  M.    Paget     ]2mo 

cloth,  olivine  edges,  prict-  81,00. 

"Mr.  Henty  never  loses  sight  of  the  moral  purpose  of  his  work — to 
enforce  the  doctrine  of  courage  and  truth,  mercy  and  loving  kindness, 
as  indispensable  to  the  making  of  a  gentleman.  Boys  will  read  'The 
Bravest  of  the  Brave'  with  pleasure  and  profit;  of  that  we  are  quite 
sure. "  — Daily    Telegraph. 

The  Cat  of  Bubastes :  A  Story  of  Ancient  Egypt.     By 

G.  A.  Henty.     With  illustrations.    12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  81.00. 

"The  story,  from  the  critical  moment  of  the  killing  of  the  sacred  cat 

to   the   perilous  exodus   into   Asia   with  which   it  closes.    Is  very   skillfully 

constructed  and  full  of  exciting  adventures.     It  Is  admirably  Illustrated.  ' 

— Saturday   Review. 

Bonnie  Prince  Charlie:     A  Tale  of  Fontenoy  and  Cul- 

loden.    By  G.  A.  Henty,    With  illustrations  by  Gordon  Brownk     12mo, 

cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  gl.OO. 

"Ronald,  the  hero,  is  very  like  the  hero  of  'Quentin  Durward.'  The 
lad's  journey  across  France,  and  his  hairbreadth  escapes,  makes  up  as 
good  a  narrative  of  the  kind  as  we  have  ever  read.  For  freshness  of 
treatment  and  variety  of  Incident  Mr.  Henty  has  surpassed  himself.  — 
Spectator, 

With  Clive  in  India;  or.  The  Beginnings  of  an  Empire. 

By  G.  A.  Henty.    Witti  illustrations  by  Gordon  Browne.    12mo,  cloth, 

olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"He  has  taken  a  period  of  Indian  history  of  the  most  vital  Impor- 
tance, and  he  has  embroidered  on  the  historical  facts  a  story  which  ol 
Itself  is  deeply  interesting.  Young  people  assuredly  wiU  be  dellghtec 
with    the    volume." — Scotsman. 

In  the  Reign  of  Terror:  The  Adventures  of  a  West- 
minster Boy  By  G.  A,  Hentv.  With  illustrations  by  J.  SceOnbiro. 
12mo,  cloth,  divine  edges,  price  $1  0©. 

"Harry  Sandwith,  the  Westminster  boy,  may  fairly  be  said  to  beat 
Mr.  Henty's  record.  His  adventures  will  delight  boys  by  tbe  audacity 
and  peril  they  depict.     The  story  is  one  of  Mr.  Henty'B  best.   — Saturday 

Keview. _^_____^_— 

For  salo  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
fUbUsher,   ^  Z.  BU&I,  68-6(J  Suane  Stre«t,  New  York. 


12       A.  L.  BtJRT^S  BOOKS  FOft  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 


The  lion  of  the  North:     A  Tale  of  Gustavus  Adolphus 

and  the  Wars  of  Religion.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  John 

ScHONBBRG.    12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  Jl.OO. 

"A  praise\Yorthy  attempt  to  Interest  British  youth  in  tie  great  deeds 
it  the  Scotch  Brigade  in  the  wars  of  Gustavus  Adolphus.  Macljey,  Hep- 
oum,  and  Munro  live  again  In  Mr.  Henty 's  pages,  as  those  deserve  to 
Jive  whose  disciplined  bands  formed  really  the  germ  of  the  modem 
British  army." — Athenaeum. 

The  Dragon  and  the  Raven;    or,    The   Days  of   King 

Alfred.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  C.  J.  Staniland.    12mo, 

cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

In  this  story  the  author  gives  an  account  of  the  fierce  struggle  be- 
tween Saxon  and  Dane  for  supremacy  in  England,  and  presents  a  vivid 
picture  of  the  misery  and  ruin  to  which  the  country  was  reduced  by  the 
ravages  of  the  sea-wolves.  The  story  is  treated  in  a  manner  most  at- 
tractive  to   the   boyish    reader." — Athenseum. 

The  Young  Carthaginian:     A  Story  of  the  Times  of 

Hannibal.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  C.  J.  Staniland.  12mo, 

cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"Well  constructed  and  vividly  told.  From  first  to  last  nothing  stays 
the  interest  of  the  narrative.  It  bears  us  along  as  on  a  stream  whose 
current  varies  in  direction,   but  never  loses  its  force." — Saturday  Review. 

In  Freedom's  Cause:     A  Story  of  Wallace  and  Bruce. 

By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  Gordon  Browne.    12mo,  cloth, 

olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"It  Is  written  in  the  author's  best  style.  Pull  of  the  wildest  and  most 
remarkable  achievements,  it  Is  a  tale  of  great  Interest,  which  a  bov,  once 
he  has  begun  it,  will  not  willingly  put  one  side." — The  Schoolmaster, 

With  Wolfe  in  Canada;  or,  The  Winning  of  a  Con- 
tinent. By  G.  A.  Henty.  With  illustrations  by  Gordon  Browne.  12mo, 
cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"A  model  of  what  a  bo.vs'  story-book  should  be.  Mr.  Henty  has  a 
great  power  of  Infusing  Into  the  dead  facts  of  history  new  life,  and  as 
no  pains  are  spared  by  him  to  ensure  accuracy  in  historic  details,  his 
books  supply  useful  aids  to  study  as  well  as  amusement." — School  Guard- 
ian. 

True  to  the  Old  Flag :     A  Tale  of  the  American  War  of 

Independence.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  Gordon  Browne. 

12mo,  clolh,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"Does  justice  to  the  pluck  and  determination  of  the  British  solldera 
iurlng  the  unfortunate  struggle  against  American  emancipation.  The  son 
of  an  American  loyalist,  who  remains  true  to  our  flag,  falls  among  the 
hostile  red-skins  in  that  very  Huron  country  which  has  been  endeared 
to   us   by   the   exploits  of  Hawkeye   and   Chlngachgook." — The   Times. 

A  Final  Keckoning:     A    Tale  of  Bush    Life  in  Aus- 
tralia.   By  G.  A.  Kenty.    With  illustrations  by  W.  B.  Wollkn.    12mo, 
cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1 .00. 
"All  boys  will  read  this  story  with  eager  and  unflagging  interest.     The 

episodes  are   in   Mr.    Henty's   very    best   vein — graphic,    exciting,    realistic; 

and,  as  In  all  Mr.  Henty's  books,   the  tendency  is  to  the  formation  of  an 

honorable,    manly,    and   even   heroic   character." — Birmingham    Post. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  bv  the 
publisher,   A.  L.   BUST,   52-58  Duane  Street,   New  'Xork. 


A.  L.  ntlRT^S  BOOKS  POR  YOUNG  PEOPLE.        13 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

The  Lion  of  St.  Mark;     A  Tale  of  Venice  in  the  Four- 
teenth Century.    By  G.  A.  Hentv.    With  illustrations  by  Gordon  Brownk. 
12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 
"Every  boy  should   read   'The  Lion  of  St.   Mark.'     Mr.  Henty  has  never 

produced  a  story  more  delightful,  more  wholesome,  or  more  vivacious." — 

Saturday    Review. 

Facing  Death;  or,  The  Hero  of  the  Vaughan  Pit.     A 

Tale  of  the  Coal  Mines.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustratioDS  by  Gordon 

Browne.    12ino,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"The  tale  is  well  written  and  well  Illustrated,  and  there  Is  much 
reality  In  the  characters.  If  any  father,  clergyman,  or  schoolmaster 
is  on  the  lookout  for  a  good  book  to  give  as  a  present  to  a  boy  who  la 
worth  his  salt,   this  Is  the  book  we  would  recommend."— Standard. 

Maori  and  Settler:      A  Story  of  the  New  Zealand  War. 

By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations  by  Alfred  Pbarse.    12nio,  clothi 

olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"In  the  adventures  among  the  Maoris,  there  are  many  breathless 
moments  in  which  the  odds  seem  hopelessly  against  the  party,  but  tnc-y 
succeed  In  establishing  themselves  happily  in  one  of  the  pleasant  New 
Zealand  valleys.  It  is  brimful  of  adventure,  of  humorous  and  interesting 
conversation,   and   vivid   pictures  of  colonial  life." — Schoolmaster. 

One   of  the  28th:     A  Tale  of  Waterloo.    By  G.  A. 

IIenty.    AVith  illustrations  by  W.  H.  OvBRtsD.      12mo,    cloth,  olivine 

edges,  price  $1.00. 
"Written  with  Homeric  vigor  and  heroic  Inspiration.  It  Is  graphic, 
picturesque,  and  dramatically  effective  .  .  .  shows  us  Mr.  Henty  at 
his  best  and  brightest.  The  adventures  will  hold  a  boy  enthralled  as  be 
rushes  through  them  with  breathless  Interest  "from  cover  to  cover.'  "— 
Observer. 

Orange  and  Green:     A  Tale  of  the  Boyne  and  Liraer- 

icK.    By  G.  A.  Henty.     With  illustrations  by  Gordon  Browne.      ISmo, 

cloth,  olivine  etlges,  price  $1.00. 

"The  narrative  Is  free  from  the  vice  of  prejudice,  and  ripples  with 
life  as  if  what  is  being  described  were  really  passing  before  the  eye." — 
Belfast    News-Letter. 

Through  the  Fray:     A  Story  of   the    Luddite    Riots. 

By  G.  A.  Henty,    With  illustrations  by  H.  M.  Paobt.    18ino,  cloth,  olivine 

edges,  price  $1.00. 

"Mr.  Henty  inspires  a  love  and  admiration  for  straightforwardness,  truth 
and  courage.  This  is  one  of  the  best  of  the  many  good  books  Mr. 
Henty  has  produced,  and  deserves  to  be  classed  with  his  'Facing  Death.'  " 
— Standard. 

The  Young  Midshipman:  A  Story  of  the  Bombard- 
ment of  Alexandria.  With  illustrations.  l2nio,  cloth,  olivine  edgest 
price  $1.00. 

A  coast  fishing  lad,  by  an  act  of  heroism,  secures  the  Interest  of 
a  shipowner,  who  places  him  as  an  apprentice  on  board  one  of  his  ships. 
In  company  with  two  of  his  fellow-apprentices  he  Is  left  behind,  at 
Alexandria,  In  the  hands  of  the  revolted  Egyptian  troops,  and  Is  present 
through  the  bombardment  and  the  scenes  of  riot  and  bloodshed  whlcli 
■Accompanied  it. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  tbc 
publisher,  A.  L.  BVKI,  62-68  Duane  Street,  New  Yoxk. 


14        A.  L.  BURT^S  BOOi^S  f  OR  iTOtJNO  PEOPLE. 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

In    Times    of    Peril.     A  Tale  of    India.    By  G.  A- 

Henty.    With  illustrations.    ISmo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

The  hero  of  the  story  early  excites  our  admiration,  and  Is  altogethei 
a  fine  character  such  as  boys  will  dellRht  in,  whilst  the  story  of  tht 
campaign    is   very   graphically   told." — St.   James's  Gazette. 

The  Cornet  of  Horse:     A  Tale  of  Marlborough's  Wars 

By  G.  A  Henty.     With  illusTations.     12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1 
"Mr.  Henty  not  only  concocts  a  thrilling  tale,  he  weaves  fact  and  flctlot 
together  with  so  skillful  a  hand  that  the   reader  cannot  help  acquiring  a 
just   and   clear   view   of   that   fierce   and   terrible   struggle   known   as   thf 
Crimean   War." — Athenseum. 

The  Young  Franc-Tireurs :     Their  Adventures  in  the 

Franco-Prussian  War.     By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations.    12mo,  cloth, 

olivine  edges,  price  SI. 00. 

"A  capital  book  for  boys.  It  is  bright  and  readable,  and  full  of  good 
sense  and  manliness.  It  teaches  pluck  and  patience  In  adversity,  and 
shows    that    right    living   leads   to   success." — Observer, 

The  Young  Colonists:    A  Story  of  Life  and  War  in 

South  Africa.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations.    12mo,  cloth,  olivine 

edges,  price  $1.00. 

"No  boy  needs  to  have  any  story  of  Henty's  recommended  to  him.  and 
parents  who  do  not  know  and  bu.v  them  for  their  bo.vs  should  be  ashamed 
of  themselves.  Those  to  whom  he  is  yet  unknown  could  not  make  a 
better    beginning    than    with    this    book. 

The  Young  Buglers.     A  Tale  of  the  Peninsular  War, 

By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations.     ]2mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1. 

"Mr.  Hent.v  is  a  giant  among  boys*  writers,  and  his  books  are  suffi- 
ciently popular  to  be  sure  of  a  welcome  anywhere.  In  stirring  interest, 
this  is  quite  up  to  the  level  of  Mr.  Henty's  former  historical  tales." — 
Saturday  Review. 

Sturdy  and  Strong;  or,  How  George  Andrews  Made  his 

Way.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations.    12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges, 

price  $1.00. 

"The  history  of  a  hero  of  everyday  life,  whose  love  of  truth,  clothing  of 
modesty,  and  Innate  pluck,  carry  him,  naturally,  from  poverty  to  afflu- 
ence. George  Andrews  is  an  example  of  character  with  nothing  to  cavil 
at,  and  stands  as  a  good  Instance  of  chivalry  In  domestic  life." — The 
Empire. 

Among  Malay  Pirates.     A    Story  of    Adventure    and 

Peril.    By  G.  A.  Henty.    With  illustrations.    12mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges. 

price  $1.00. 

"Incident  succeeds  Incident,  and  adventure  Is  piled  upon  adventure, 
and  at  the  end  the  reader,  be  he  boy  or  man,  will  have  experienced 
breathless  enjoyment  In  a  romantic  story  that  must  have  taugb'.  him 
much   at   Its   close." — Army  and  Navy   Gazette. 

Jack  Archer.     A    Tale    of    the    Crimea.     By  G.  A. 

Henty.    With  ilhistrations.    ISmo.  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"Mr.  Henty  not  only  concocts  a  thrilling  tale,  he  weaves  fact  and  fiction 
together  with  so  skillful  a  hand  that  the  reader  cannot  help  acquiring  a 
Just  and  clear  view  of  that  fierce  and  terrible  struggle." — ^Athenaeum. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A.  L.  BUBI,  52-58  Duane  Street,  New  Yoxk. 


A.  L.  BURT^S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE.       15 


BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

Friends,  Though  Divided.    A  Tale  of  the  Civil  War. 

By  G.  A.  Henty.  Witli  illustrations.  l2mo,  cloth,  olivine  edges,  price  $1. 
^.,'1^^  ^^f  5  sood  plot;  it  abounds  In  action;  the  scenes  are  equally  spirited 
and  lealistic,  and  wo  can  only  say  we  have  read  it  with  much  pleasure 
from   nrst  to   last.   — Times, 

Out  on  the  Pampas;    or,    The    Young    Settlers.    By 

G.  A.  Hi  NTY.    Witlj  illustrations.    12uio,  cloth,  oliviue  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"A  reall.v  noble  story,  which  adult  readers  will  find  to  the  full  as  satis- 
fying as  tlie  boys.  Lucky  boys!  to  have  such  a  caterer  as  Mr.  G.  A. 
Henty.    — Black   and   White. 

The  Boy  Knight:      A  Tale  of  the  Crusades.     By  G.  A. 

Henty.    With  illustrations.    12mo,  cloth,  oliviue  edges,  price  $1.00. 

"Of  stirring  episode  there  is  no  lack.  The  book,  with  Its  careful  accn- 
racy  and  its  descriptions  of  all  the  chief  battles,  will  give  many  a  school- 
boy his  first  real  understanding  of  a  very  Important  period  of  history."— 
St.  James's  Gazette. 

The  Wreck  of  the  Golden  Fleece.     The  Story  of  a  North 

Sea  Fisher  Boy.    By  Robert  LEifinroN.    ISmo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1. 

A  description  of  life  on  the  wild  North  Sea, — the  hero  belnjr  a  parson's 
son  who  is  appreciated  on  board  a  Lowestoft  flshlne  luKcer.  The  lad  has 
to  sufifer  many  buffets  from  his  shipmates,  while  the  storms  and  dangers 
which  he  braved  on  board  the  'North  Star"  are  set  forth  with  minute 
knowledge  and  intense  power.  The  wreck  of  the  "Golden  Fleece"  forms 
the  climax  to  a  thrillln£  series  of  desperate  mischances. 

Olaf  the  Glorious.     A  Story  of  the  Viking  Age.     By 

Robert  Leiohton.    12ino,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1 .00. 

This  story  of  Olaf  the  Glorious,  King  of  Norway,  opens  with  the  incident 
of  his  being  found  by  his  uncle  living  as  a  bond-slave  in  Estbonia:  then 
come  his  adventures  as  a  Viking  and  his  raids  upon  the  coasts  of  Scot- 
land and  England,  bis  victorious  battle  against  the  English  at  Maldon  in 
Essex,  his  being  bought  off  by  Etholred  the  L'nready,  and  his  conversion 
to  Christianity,  lie  then  returns  to  Pagan  Norway,  Is  accepted  as  king, 
and  converts  his  people  to  the  Christian  faith. 

To  Greenland  and  the  Pole.     A  story  of  Adventure  in 

the  Arctic  Regions.    By  Gordon  Stables.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1. 

The  unfailing  fascination  of  Arctic  venturing  Is  presented  In  this  story 
with  new  vividness.  It  deals  with  skllSbning  in  the  north  of  Scotland, 
ieer-hunting  in  Norway,  sealing  in  the  Arctic  Seas,  bear-stalking  on  the 
ice-tlocs,  the  hardships  of  a  journe.v  across  Greenland,  and  a  successful 
voyage  to  the  back  of  the  North  Pole.  This  Is,  Indeed,  a  real  sea-yam 
by  a  real  sailor,  and  the  tone  Is  as  bright  and  wholesome  as  the  adventures 
are   numerous. 

Yussuf  the  Guide.      A    Story   of   Adventure  in   Asia 

Minor.    By  George  Manvim^e  Fenn.    ]2mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

This  story  deals  with  the  stirring  incidents  in  the  career  of  a  lad  who  has 
been  almost  given  over  by  the  doctors,  but  who  rapidly  recovers  health 
and  strength  in  «  Journey  thmugh  Asia  Minor.  The  adventures  are  many, 
and  culminate  i  ^  the  travellers  l>eing  snowed  up  for  the  winter  in  the 
mountains,  from  which  they  escape  while  their  captors  are  waiting  for 
the  ransom  that  does  not  come. 


For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  th« 
publisher,  A.  L.  SITBT,  52-58  Suane  Street,  New  York. 


16       A.  L.  BURT^S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

Grettir  the  Outlaw.    A  Story  of  Iceland.    By  S.  Bae- 

iNG-GocLD.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrateti,  price  $1.00. 

"This  is  the  boys'  book  of  the  year.  That  is,  of  course,  as  much  as 
to  say  that  it  will  do  for  men  grown  as  well  as  juniors.  It  is  told  in 
simple,  straightforward  English,  as  all  stories  should  be,  and  it  has  a 
freshness    and    freedom    which    make    it    irresistible." — National    Observer. 

Two    Thousand    Years  Ago.      The    Adventures    of    a 

Roman  Boy.    By  A.  J.  Chttrch.    ISJmo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"Prof.  Church  has  in  this  story  sought  to  revivify  that  most  interesting 
period,  the  last  da.vs  of  the  Roman  Republic.  The  book  is  extremely  en- 
tertaining as  well  as  useful;  there  is  a  wonderful  freshness  In  the  Roman 
scenes  and  characters." — Times. 

Nat  the  Naturalist.  A  Boy's  Adventure  in  the  East- 
ern Seas.  By  George  Manville  Fenn.  12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1. 
Nat  and  his  uncle  Dick  go  on  a  voyage  to  the  remoter  islands  of  the 
Eastern  seas,  and  their  adventures  are  told  in  a  truthful  and  vastl.v  in- 
teresting fashion.  The  descriptions  of  Mr.  Ebony,  their  black  comrade, 
and  of  the  scenes  of  savage  life,  are  full  of  genuine  humor. 

The  Log  of  the  Flying  Fish.      A  Story  of  Peril  and 

Adventu'-e.    By  Harry  Collingwood.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  gl. 

"This  story  is  full  of  even  more  vividly  recounted  adventures  than  those 
Whicll  charmed  so  many  boy  readers  in  'Pirate  Island'  and  'Congo  Rovers.' 
.  .  .  There  is  a  thrilling  adventure  on  the  precipices  of  Mount  Everest, 
when  the  shin  floats  off  and  providentially  returns  by  force  of  'gravita- 
tion.' " — Academy. 

The  Congo  Rovers.     A  Story  of  the    Slave    Squadron. 

By  Harry  Collingwood.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  fl.OO. 

"The  scene  of  this  tale  is  laid  on  the  west  coast  of  Africa,  and  In  the 
lower  reaches  of  the  Congo;  the  characteristic  scenery  of  the  great  river 
being  delineated  with  wonderful  accuracy.  Mr.  Collingwood  carries  us  oft 
for  another  cruise  at  sea,  in  'The  Congo  Rovers,'  and  boys  will  need  no 
pressing  to  join  the  daring  crew,  which  seeks  adventures  and  meets  with 
any  number  of  them." — The   Times. 

Boris  the  Bear  Hunter.     A  Tale  of  Peter  the  Great  and 

His  Times.    By  Fred  Wishaw.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 
"This  is  a  capital  story.     The  characters  are  marked  and  lifelike,  and  It 
Is  full  of  incident  and  adventure." — Standard. 

Michael  Strogoff ;  or,   The   Courier  of  the   Czar.    By 

Jules  Verne.    i2mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"The  story  is  full  of  originality  and  vigor.  The  characters  are  lifelike, 
there  is  plenty  of  stirring  Incident,  the  interest  is  sustained  throughout, 
and  every  boy  will  enjoy  following  the  fortunes  of  the  hero." — Jouimai  of 
Education. 

Mother  Carey's  Chicken.     Her  Voyage  to  the  Unknown 

Isle.    By  George  MANvn.LE  Fpnn.    12nrio,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"Undoubtedly  one  of  the  best  Mr.  Penn  has  written.  The  incidents  are 
of  thrilling  Interest,  while  the  characters  are  drawn  with  a  care  and  com- 
pleteness rarely   found  In   a   boy's  book." — Literary  World. 

For  sale  by  all  bnoksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A.  L.  BIT&T,  62-fi8  Duane  Street,  New  York. 


A.  L.  BURT^S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE.        17 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

Dick  Sand;    or,  A    Captain    at    Fifteen.     By  Jules 

Verne.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  SI. 00. 

"Jules  Verne  himself  never  constructed  a  more  marvellous  tale.  It  con- 
tains the  strongly  marked  features  that  are  always  conspicuous  In  his 
stories — a  racy  humor,  the  manly  vigor  of  his  sentiment,  and  wholesome 
moral  lessons." — Christian  Leader. 

Erling  the  Bold.     A  Tale  of  the    Norse    Sea    Kings. 

By  R.  M.  Bai.lantyne.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"This  volume  makes  a  really  fascinating  lx)ok,  worthy  of  Its  telling 
title.  There  l.s,  we  venture  to  say,  not  a  dull  chapter  In  the  book,  not 
a    page   which   will   not   bear  a   second    reading." — Guardian. 

Masterman  Ready;  or,  The  Wreck  of  the  Pacific.     By 

Captain  Marryat.    ISmo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"As  racy  a  tale  of  life  at  sea  and  adventure  as  we  have  met  with  for 
some  time.  .  .  .  Altogether  the  sort  of  book  that  boys  will  revel  In." 
— Athenceum. 

The  Green  Mountain  Boys.    A  Tale  of  the  Early  Set^ 

tlemeiit  of  Vei  luont.  By  D.  P.  Thompson.  12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1 
A  story  of  very  great  Interest  for  boys.  In  his  own  forcible  style  the 
author  has  endeavored  to  show  that  determination  and  patriotic  enthu- 
siasm can  accomplish  marvellous  results.  This  story  gives  a  graphic  ac 
count  of  the  early  settlers  of  Vermont,  and  their  patriotic  efforts  in  de- 
fending  their  homos   from   the  invasions  of  enemies. 

Every  Inch  a  Sailor.     By   Gokdon   Stables.     12mo 

cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"A  story  which  is  quite  as  good  In  its  way  as  'Treasure  Island,'  and  Is 
full  of  adventure  of  a  stirring  yet  most  natural  kind.  Althougb  It  is 
primarily  a  boys'  book.  It  Is  a  real  godsend  to  the  elderly  reader." — 
Evening  Times. 

The  Golden  Galleon.     A  Narrative    of    Adventure  on 

Her  Majesty's  Sliip  the  Revenge.    By  Robert  Leiohton.     12mo,  cloth, 

illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"This  story  should  add  considerably  to  Mr.  Lelghton's  high  reputation. 
Excellent  in  every  respect,  it  contains  every  variety  of  incident.  The  plot 
is  very  cleverly  devised,  and  the  types  of  the  North  Sea  sailors  are 
capital." — The  Times. 

The  Gorilla  Hunters.     A  Tale  of  the  Wilds  of  Africa. 

By  R.  M.  Ballantynk.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"We  conscientiously  i)elive  that  boys  will  find  it  capital  reading.  It  Is 
full  of  incident  and  mystery,  and  the  mystery  Is  kept  up  to  the  last 
moment.  It  is  full  of  stirring  adventure,  daring  and  many  escapes:  and 
it  has  a  historical  interest." — Times. 

Gascoyne    the    Sandalwood    Trader.    By  K.  M.  Bal- 

lantvne.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"One  of  the  best  stories  of  seafaring  life  and  adventure  which  have 
appeared  this  season.  Entertaining  in  the  highest  degree  from  beginning 
to  end,  and  full  of  adventure  which  is  all  the  livelier  for  Its  close  con- 
nection  with   history." — Spectator. 

For  sale  by  all  Iwrnksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A.  L.  BUST,  68-68  Duane  Street,  New  York. 


18        A.  L.  BURT^S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

Two  Years  Before  the  Mast.     A  Personal  Narrative  of 

Life  at  Sea.    By  R.  H.  Dana,  Jr.    12itio,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  SlOO. 

"One  of  the  very  best  books  for  boys  that  we  have  seen  for  a  long  time: 
Its  author  stands  far  in  advance  of  any  other  writer  for  boys  as  a  teller 
of  stories  of  the  sea." — The  Standard. 

The  Young  Rajah.     A  Story  of  Indian  Life.     By  W. 

H.  G.  Kingston.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"This  story  will  place  the  author  atJ  once  In  the  front  rank.  It  la  full 
of  life  and  adventure,  and  the  Interest  is  sustained  without  a  break  from 
first  to  last." — Standard. 

How  Jack  Mackenzie  Won  His  Epaulettes.     A  Story 

of  the  Crimean  War.     By  Gordon  Stables.     12iuo,  cloth,  illustrated, 

price  $1.00. 

"This  must  rank  among  the  few  undeniably  good  boys'  books.  He 
will  be  a  very  dull  boy  indeed  who  lays  it  down  without  wishing  that 
it  had  gone  on  for  at  least  100  pages  more." — Mail. 

The  King's  Pardon.     A  Story  of  Land  and  Sea.     By 

Robert  Overton.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"An  excellent  story,  the  interest  being  sustained  from  first  to  last. 
This  is,  both  in  its  intention  and  the  way  the  story  is  told,  one  of  the 
best  books  of  its  kind  which  has  come  before  us  this  year." — Saturday 
Heview. 

Under  the  Lone  Star.     A  Story  of   the   Revolution  in 

Nicaragua.    By  Herbert  Hatnes.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  81.00. 

"We  have  not  of  late  come  across  a  historical  fiction,  whether  Intended 
for  boys  or  for  men,  which  deserves  to  be  so  heartily  and  unreservedly 
praised  as  regards  plot,  incidents,  and  spirit  as  this  book.  It  Is  its  au- 
thor's masterpiece  as  yet." — Spectator. 

Geoff  and  Jim:  A  Story  of  School  Life.     By  Is:\rAY 

Thorn.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"This  Is  a  prettily  told  story  of  the  life  spent  by  two  motherless  balms 
at  a  small  preparatory  school.  Both  Geoff  and  Jim  are  very  lovable  char- 
acters, only  Jim  is  the  more  so:  and  the  scrapes  he  gets  into  and  the 
trials  he  endures  will,  no  doubt,  interest  a  large  circle  of  young  readers." 
— Church  Times, 

Jack:  A  Topsy  Turvy  Story.     By   C.   M.   Crawley- 

BoEVET.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"The  Illustrations  deserve  particular  mention,  as  they  add  largely  to 
the  interest  of  this  amusing  volume  for  children.  Jack  falls  asleep  with 
his  mind  full  of  the  suliject  of  the  fishpond,  and  is  very  much  surprised 
presently  to  find  himself  an  inhabitant  of  Waterworld,  where  he  goes 
through  wonderful  and  edifying  adventures.  A  handsome  and  pleasant 
book." — Literary  World. 

Black  Beauty.     The  Autobiography  of  a  Horse.     By 

Anna  Sewell.    l2mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

This  Is  the  life  story  of  a  horse;  how  he  was  ill  treated  and  well 
cared  for.  The  experiences  of  Black  Beauty,  Ginger,  and  Merrylegs  are 
extremely  Interesting.  Wherever  children  are,  whether  boys  or  girls,  there 
this  Autobiography  should  be.  It  inculontrs  habits  of  kindness  to  all  mem- 
bers of  the  animal  creation.     The  literary  merit  of  the  book  is  excellent. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,   A.  L,  BUBT,   52-58  Duane  Street,   Kew  York. 


A.  L.  BURT^S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE.        19 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

Mopsa  the  Fairy.     By  Jean  Ingelow.     12mo,  ciotn, 

ill tist rated,  pri<-e  75  cents. 

"Mrs.  Ingelow  is,  to  our  mind,  the  most  charming  of  all  living  writers 
for  children,  and  "Mopsa'  alone  ought  to  give  her  a  kind  of  pre-emptive 
right  to  the  love  and  gratitude  of  our  young  folks.  It  reyulres  genius 
to  conceive  a  purely  imaginary  work  which  must  of  necessity  deal  with 
the  supernatural,  without  running  into  a  mere  riot  of  fantastic  absurdity; 
but  genius  Mrs.  Ingelow  has,  and  the  story  of  'Jack'  is  as  careless  and 
joyous,  but  as  delicate  as  a  picture  of  childhood." — Eclectic. 

Carrots:  Just  a  Little  Boy.     By  Mrs.  Molesworth. 

12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"One  of  the  cleverest  and  most  pleasing  stories  It  has  been  our  good 
fortune  to  meet  with  for  some  time.  Carrots  and  his  sister  arc  delight- 
ful little  beings,  whom  to  read  about  is  at  once  to  b<»come  very  fond  of. 
A  genuine  children's  book;  we've  seen  'em  seize  it,  and  read  it  greedily. 
Children  are  flrst-rate  critics,  and  thoroughly  appreciate  Walter  Crane's 
illustrations. " — Punch. 

Larry's  Luck.     By  the  author  of  "Miss  Toosey's  Mis- 
sion."   l'.Jmo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"It  is  believed  that  this  story,  by  this  favoral>ly  known  author  of 
'Miss  Toosey's  Mission,"  will  be  found  both  highly  interesting  and  instruc- 
tive to  the  "young.  Whether  the  readers  are  nine  years  old,  or  twice  as 
old,    they   miist   enjoy   this  pretty   volume." — The   Examiner. 

A  Child's  Christmas:  A  Sketch  of  Boy  Life.     By  Mrs. 

Molesworth.    12ino,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"This  is  another  of  those  delightful  juvenile  stories  of  which  this  author 
has  written  so  many.  It  is  a  fascinating  little  book,  with  a  charming 
plot,  a  sweet,  pure  atmosphere,  and  teaches  a  wholesome  moral  in  the 
most   winning   manner." — Gazette. 

Chunk,  Fusky  and  Snout.     A  Story  of  Wild  Pigs  for 

Little  People.    By  Geieai.d  Yor.NO.    ]2mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"The  storv  is  an  extremely  interesting  one,  full  of  incident,  told  In  a 
quiet,  healthful  wav,  and  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasantly  Interfused 
Information  about  wild  pigs  and  their  ways.  It  is  sure  to  Interest  both 
•boys  and  girls." — Christian  Union. 

Daddy's  Boy.     By  L.  T.  Meade.     12mo,  cloth,  illus- 
trated, price  75  cents. 

"A  charming  storv  of  child  life.  Little  Sir  Rowland  is  one  of  the 
most  fascinating  of  the  misunderstood  child  heroes  of  the  day.  The  quaint 
doings  and  imaginings  of  this  gentle,  lovable,  but  highly  original  child  are 
Introduced  by  Mrs.   Meade,  with  all  her  accustomed  pathos.  ' — Guardian. 

Adventures    of    Prince    Prigio.     By    Andrew    Lang. 

12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  ce-iis. 

"This  bo(.k  has  so  much  charm  of  style  and  good  writing  that  It  will  be 
eagerly  read  bv  many  other  than  the  young  folk  for  whom  it  is  Intended. 
—Black  and  White. 

A  Flock  of  Four.     A  Story  for  Boys  and  Girls.     By 

IsMAV  Thorn.     12nio,  cloth,  illustrati'd,  price  75  cents. 

"As  n  gift  book  for  boys  It  is  among  the  best  new  hooks  of  the  kind. 
The  story  is  interesting  and  natural,   from  first  to  last." — Gazette. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  bj  the 
publisher,  A.  L.  BTTKT,  68-58  Dnane  Street,  New  York. 


20        A.  L.  BUET^S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

A  Flat  Iron  for  a  Farthing.     The  Story  of  an  Only 

Son.    By  Juliana  Horatia  Ewing.    12rao,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"A  very  good  book  It  is,  full  cf  advpnture,  graphically  told.     The  style 

is  just   what  it  should   be;     simple   but   not   bold,    full  of  pleasant  humor, 

and   with   some   pretty   touches   of   feeling.     Lilie   all   Mrs.    Ewlng's   tales, 

it  is  sound,   sensible,   and  wholesome." — Times. 

The  Greek  Heroes.     Fairy  Tales  for  My  Children.     By 

Charles  Kingsley.  ]2mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 
"We  do  not  thinlt  these  heroic  stories  have  ever  been  more  attractively 
told.  .  .  There  is  a  deep  under-current  of  religious  feeling  traceable 
throughout  its  pages  which  Is  sure  to  influence  young  readers  power- 
fully. One  of  the  children's  books  that  will  surely  become  a  classic' — 
London  Review. 

Jackanapes.      By  Juliana  Horatia  Ewing.     12nio, 

cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"This  is  one  of  Mrs.  Ewing's  charming  little  stories  for  young  children. 
The  narrative  ...  is  full  of  Interest  for  its  real  grace  and  delicacy, 
and  the  exquisiteness  and  purity  of  the  English  in  which  it  is  written." — 
Boston  Advertiser. 

Princess  and  Curdie.     By  George  Macdonald.     12mo, 

cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"One  of  the  cleverest  and  most  pleasing  stories  It  has  been  our  good 
fortune  to  meet  with  for  some  time.  The  Princess  and  Curdle  are  delight- 
ful little  beings,  whom  to  read  about  is  at  once  to  become  very  fond  of." 
—Examiner. 

Peter  the  Pilgrim.     The  Story  of  a  Boy  and  His  Pet 

Rabbit.    By  L.  T.  Meade.    ISmo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents, 
"Little  Peter,   with  his  soft  heart,  clever  head,  and  brave  spirit  is  no 
morbid   presentment   of   the   angelic   child    'too   good   to   live,'    and   who   is 
certainly    a    nuisance    on    earth,    but   a    charming   creature,    if   not    a   por- 
trait, whom  it  is  a  privilege  to  meet  even  in  fiction." — The  Academy. 

We  and  the  World.     A  Story  for  Boys.     By  Juliana 

Horatia  Ewing.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"The  author  has  evidently  studied  the  ways  and  tastes  of  children  and 
got  at  the  secret  of  amusing  them;  and  has  succeeded  in  what  Is  not 
so  easy  a  task  as  it  may  seem — in  producing  a  really  good  children's 
book." — Daily  Telegraph, 

Little    Ivan's    Hero.     A    Story    of    Child    Life.     By 

Helen  Milman.    ]2mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  75  cents. 

"We  should  Imagine  those  queer  folk  indeed  who  could  not  read  this 
story  with  eager  interest  and  pleasure,  be  they  boys  or  girls,  young  or 
old.  We  highly  commend  the  style  in  which  the  book  is  written,  and  the 
spirit  which  pervades  it." — World. 

Dick,  Marjorie  and  Fidge.     The  Wonderful  Adventures 

of  Three  Little  People.    By  G.  E.  Farrow.    12mo,  cloth,  illust'd.  price  75c. 

"...  To  the  young,  for  whom'  It  is  especially  intended,  this  is  a 
most  interesting  book  of  adventures,  well  told,  and  a  pleasant  book  to 
take  up  when  their  wish  is  to  while  away  a  wnary  half-hour.  We  have 
seen  no  prettier  gift-book  for  a  long  time." — Athensum. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher.  A.  L.  BURT,   68-58  Duane  Street,  New  York. 


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